Of Hearts and Heroes
by emmilyne
Summary: revised ch 1 to 14. In the days following the DoM there is no respite for Harry, Ginny learns she is not the plain outsider she thinks she is. Grief and fear lead to late night connections for Ron and Hermione. Sixth year pre HBP AU. RH GH eventually
1. Chapter One

**Very Important Author's Note:**

**I'm sorry to say that I have decided not to complete an R rated version of this story, so it will not be completed on this site.**

**NC-17/MA versions can be found at and Each site is secure, so please do not attempt to access it unless you are of age.**

**Thank You**

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Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_ and is rated R.

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Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

This version has been modified from the original NC-17 version, housed at Specifically, explicatives have been modified and sexual situations made less explicit. Any significant or large changes will be pointed out in the author's notes. Thank you and enjoy.

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**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter One**

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"Did you reverse the spell?" 

"Yeah, but he seems to have slipped into unconsciousness now."

"Wait. Let me get these tentacles off of him first."

The words floated over him as if from far away. The meaning behind them followed at a much slower speed. His limbs were heavy. His eyelids felt like lead. The very air around him weighed down on him. It was so thick that even breathing required monumental effort.

"All off."

"_Innervate_."

The world came back to Ron Weasley in a rush. Sensations flooded him. His mouth opened involuntarily and a gush of breath entered his lungs, burning them. It was as if his body didn't trust it would get enough air. His body surged upward and he sat, gasping.

Only then did he open his eyes. Immediately, the knowledge of where he was hit him. _Shite. _The Department of Mysteries.

Ron closed his eyes against the rush of memories. They had come to rescue Sirius. They were surrounded. They ran. Somehow, they got separated. Ron hadn't been able to find Hermione or Harry. An explosion of some sort…he got hit by some spell.

And then Ron had turned into a damned ruddy fool, right in the middle of a bloody battle. Well, more of a fool than usual that is. _Damn._

Taking another deep breath, Ron forced himself to open his eyes and scan the dark room. Neville sat with a rag to his nose. It was covered with blood, but he seemed all right. Luna was cross-legged on the floor in a daze. Nothing new there. His sister lay on her back holding up her ankle, while Lupin manipulated it. Ginny was grimacing in pain.

Ron swallowed, forcing his eyes to continue their overly-slow perusal. Friends were still unaccounted for. He needed to find….

Bloody Hell. Hermione.

He froze at the sight of her, his breath gone again. Ron's eyes burned. He'd never felt such fear, not when he had faced a giant spider, not when his father had been attacked. There were no words to describe the feeling. Not that he was very good with words anyway.

Ron forced himself to crawl to her. Why was it taking so long to get there? Why was she so limp? So still? Why were Lupin, Kingsley, and Moody moving so god damned slowly? Why weren't they helping her? Didn't they see that Hermione needed them? That she could be dying? Oh god, oh god, oh god.

"Hermione!" he tried to yell but it came out as a hoarse whimper. Not that Ron was actually sure he formed sound at all.

It took him forever to reach her. The relief he felt when he did was nearly overwhelming. But she was so cold. Damn. She was _so_ still.

"Hermione. Hermione," he chanted. "Please wake up. Please."

She would wake at any moment. Ron knew it. She was going to be fine. He ran his hands over her face. She was so cool... too cool.

A wave of desperation flowed over him. He wanted to shake her. He wanted to scream at her.

Carefully, Ron lifted her shoulders and laid Hermione's head on his lap. As he did this, sharp knives of pain shot through his chest and arms. His skin was scorched. The closer he pulled her the more it hurt. It was almost unbearable. He held her tighter.

He called for the others to help, to tell him what was wrong, to make her wake up, but no one answered. No one seemed to hear him. Tears were falling on his face and arms, making the burning more intense.

Frantically, he felt for her pulse. Ron's hands trembled. Where the hell was it? He didn't even know how to find a bloody pulse. He wasn't a god damn Healer. Why didn't they ever teach anything _useful_ at that bloody school…?

There it was. Thump. Thump. His eyes slipped closed. A sigh left him. He wasn't going to lose her. He wasn't going to lose her. He wasn't going to lose her.

But then the pulse was slowing. Slower and slower. Her chest was barely moving any more. "No, Hermione. No. I need you! You can't go."

The pulse was gone.

He searched again. His hands frantically moving up and down her arm, over her throat…god no no no no. It had to be there, he had just lost it.

Ron woke gasping, dripping with sweat, a burning sensation radiating from his chest and arms. His heart was beating so hard he thought he might choke. Again his mind adjusted to this new reality. The actual reality. At least he hoped it was. Anything was better than his dream, even if it was the Hogwart's hospital wing. It didn't matter as long as he could find Hermione.

As he sat up and swung his feet over the side of his bed, his eyes anxiously sought out the sleeping figure next to him. The sight of Hermione all but destroyed him. Ron closed his eyes against the flood of intense, unwanted, and confusing emotions. But then he needed to see her. So the eye-closing was actually rather daft. Was he going insane? His eyes opened. Good, she was still there. Yup, he was going insane.

This was the third night in a row. The dreams weren't getting any better. Hell, they were getting worse.

Ron's eyes traveled over Hermione's sleeping form. Carefully, he took in all the subtle signs of life. The signs that had been missing moments before, in his nightmare. The tiny flutter of her eye lashes, the subtle movement of her legs under the blankets, the careful rise and fall of her chest. He watched the rise and fall transfixed. _Hermione_.

Ron told himself over and over that he was just making sure she was all right. He was _not_ admiring her body while she slept. That would be wrong. Hermione was his friend. She was his best friend, and she was very vulnerable. He was _not_ staring at the subtle curves of her chest, which didn't seem to be quite as subtle as they used to be. When had that happened?

Ron's face grew hot. Blimey, what was wrong with him? When had he become such a hormone driven pervert? Maybe that was a stupid question, but this was Hermione. She deserved respect. She had almost died.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't dead. She was alive. Now, it was time to go _back to bed._

Ron stood. He got out of bed and was kneeling next to her before he could rationalize his behavior. He had officially lost all control over his body.

All right, he could see that she was breathing. She was moving for god's sake. She's just sleeping. Like he should be doing.

Instead, the back of his hand lightly laid itself on her cheek. How did it get there? It was betraying him. But she was so _warm_. He had never felt anything so wonderful in his life. Did Hermione always have such lovely, smooth skin?

"Mmm," she hummed in her sleep and he jerked his hand back. She turned her face away from him, but her breathing didn't change.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was for her to wake up and find him groping her in her sleep like a crazed miscreant. He had his reprieve. It was time to go back to sleep.

But there was a nagging thought, a compulsion that wouldn't be denied. There was just one more thing he had to do.

Ron reached out and carefully took her delicate wrist into his large hand. She seemed far too fragile. It took him a moment to find that steady thumping and he began to panic. He closed his eyes in concentration and used his other hand to steady her wrist as he moved his fingers carefully along the inner edge of her arm…

Thank god. There it was, strong and steady. Thank god. Ron started to count, matching his breaths to the beat. With every thump, he felt the tension flow out of his body. Maybe he could just sleep like this. Maybe then he would finally get a good night's rest. He was so relaxed that he didn't even jerk when he felt a small hand cover his. Shite.

Ron slowly brought his eyes to her face and met Hermione's open eyes.

"Hey," she said in a sleep hoarsened voice. It sent shivers up his spine. Hermione gave him a small smile.

"Hey." Ron attempted a smile back. "I reckon I should explain," he said, gesturing his head to where his hands rested together on her wrist. He didn't move them.

Hermione shrugged, biting her lip. "It's ok." She squeezed his hand. "I mean, I have my share of nightmares. Though I suppose I was lucky, I was unconscious for most of it," she joked.

His hand clenched her wrist. Ron gritted his teeth, hissing, "Don't. Just don't."

There their eyes met and held. They had never shared a look quite like this before. It was…weird.

"Sorry," Hermione whispered, her smile fading. She worried her lip and he swallowed. She looked really pretty in the moonlight. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked him, pulling him away from the uncomfortable thought.

Ron averted his eyes and shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to talk about it. He felt her thumb move lightly over the back of his hand. Somehow, it made him both less and more comfortable. He still felt the thump of her pulse, though it quickened. It was starting to get really warm in there.

He couldn't look at her. Not when Ron knew _she_ wanted to talk about it. She always wanted to talk about everything. Hermione never realized how hard it was. What was he supposed to say? Every night, he relived the Department of Mysteries. Only in his dream… in his dreams she died. Every bloody night, she died and he wanted to die as well.

Ron didn't even know what the damn dreams meant. He did know he didn't want her to draw her own conclusions. He chanced a quick glance at her face. As predicted, Hermione looked so adorably expectant that before he knew it, he was talking. He wondered if there was any part of his body that he had control of anymore.

"I thought you were dead." Ron's voice was barely perceptible to his own ears. Why was he telling her this? He hoped she couldn't hear him. "When they woke me, you were so still. I couldn't feel…." He took a shuddering breath. He couldn't look her in the eyes. He couldn't finish the thought. He lifted her wrist slightly in explanation.

Hermione's voice quivered when she whispered, "Ron."

His name. It was just his name and it almost broke him. Ron pulled her hand up and buried his eyes in her wrist to still the humiliating flow of tears.

"Ron, stand up," she ordered calmly. It was her self-assured Prefect tone.

Hermione clearly wanted him gone. He was repulsive and pathetic. Certainly much less than a man, not even a boy. Ron nodded and fought the tears with every bit of strength he had. He gently laid her wrist back on her belly. She would _not_ see him cry, he chanted to himself. She would _not_ see him cry.

"Step back, at the end of the bed," she commanded and he obeyed for once, stumbling a bit as he did so. Ron didn't have the strength to put up his usual fight.

She reached over to her bedside table and retrieved her wand. Pointing it over to Ron's bed, she confidently commanded, "_Accio bed_." It slid over neatly and stopped a foot away from hers. He shook his head. Only Hermione could get it to stop exactly where she wanted. If Ron had done the spell the bed would have come crashing over to hers.

"You need to get some sleep," Hermione said primly.

What? He looked back over at her with confusion. Hermione was fighting a smile. Her brown eyes were warm in the darkness. Oh. _Ohhh_. Ron smiled. Did she mean…? She couldn't. What the hell was he waiting for? For her to change her mind? He climbed into his bed, turning to lie on his side to face her. She was so wonderfully close. He could reach out and touch her.

Hermione mirrored his position and smiled brightly. Their eyes held for the second time that night. It was better this time. Maybe he just needed to get used to it.

"Does it hurt much?" she asked, softly.

"What?" he said automatically, distracted for some reason. Hermione gestured toward the welts on his arm with a jerk of her chin. "Nah," Ron said with what he hoped was bravery. Actually it burned like bloody murder. It was even worse when he lay on his side.

They smiled at each other for a few minutes more. Then Hermione held out her arm and rested it palm up on Ron's bed. "Here. Now, go to sleep," she spoke, again with commanding prissiness. Only with her, could it be so endearing.

Ron blinked at her, and then looked down at her hand. Hermione was acting so strangely tonight. Maybe he wasn't the only one who had gone mental. Maybe he was just being thicker than usual. He waited for her to explain, but she had closed her eyes and appeared to be drifting back to sleep.

Sure, she could sleep. He couldn't sleep without… Ohhh… Well then. Ron swallowed. Reverently, he wrapped both hands around her delicate wrist. Her steady pulse lulled him into his first peaceful sleep in days.

* * *

"Mind you, the whole Subject is useless if you ask me. Firenze isn't much better." 

"How can you say that?"

Ginny tuned out Ron and Hermione's bickering. Looking over, she saw Luna and Neville were doing an impressive bit of ignoring themselves. She shook her head at the whole thing, but any amusement she could have felt faded when she caught sight of the pained look on Harry's face.

She should have known their ridiculous pretense of lightness and normality wouldn't work. She should have known that no amount of smiling and joking on her part was ever going to remove the vacant, tortured look from Harry Potter's features.

Ginny had thought that Harry would come back to himself when they were finally allowed to visit Ron in the hospital, a day after the Department of Mysteries. When that hadn't worked, she thought for sure he would be better when Hermione woke up, but even then the change was minimal. At least now he would sit amongst people, even for a short time. Still, Harry looked haunted. He wasn't taking care of himself.

Not that Ginny really _knew_. She certainly was _not_ watching him. She did _not_ keep track of his habits. It had been years… _years_ since Ginny had last stalked him. Well, maybe one year. Stalking was actually something Colin taught her. A Muggle word for 'admiring from a distance,' he'd said, though it was more like following him every where and keeping track of every detail of his life.

It was a fun game Ginny and Colin played second year, an enjoyable way to indulge their mutual crush. They had even made a pact. Which ever way Harry leaned, gay or straight, either Ginny or Colin would end up with Harry in the end. Ginny had been fairly confident she'd win. God, it was embarrassing to think back.

Ginny and Colin got very good at stalking without being noticed. By third year Ginny's pride started to smart, so she got more subtle about it. She didn't give up all together until the beginning fourth year. Ginny no longer fancied Harry Potter. The game was obsolete.

Colin must still be following Harry. He was the one who told her Harry wasn't sleeping. As for eating, maybe Ginny had noticed that he was never in the Great Hall anymore, maybe she had talked to Dobby and found out that he didn't come to the kitchen either, but she was concerned. The boy was wasting away. She couldn't allow her brother to get out of the hospital wing to find his best mate had died of starvation. Right?

"Hey, where are you going?" Ron asked and Ginny's head jerked up as she saw Harry rise and walk towards the door. Her heart rate accelerated.

"Er…Hagrid's," Harry said. He kept talking, but Ginny didn't hear him. Her heart was pounding in her ears. Her mind was screaming one loud, self-destructive thought, 'Go with him!'

Of course, she couldn't go with him. She wasn't even his friend, not really. Not like Ron and Hermione were. And it was clear that Harry didn't even want to be around _them_. Why would he want to be around _her_?

So, clearly Ginny had to stay. It was a moot point really. Harry already disappeared out the door. She sighed, feeling more depressed than ever.

Perhaps, Ginny _did_ need to go see Hagrid. What did it matter if a girl who _so_ obviously did not fancy Harry anymore wanted to see a mutual friend, who he just happened to be visiting at the same time? It shouldn't be a problem since she didn't have a crush on him anymore. Who cares what Colin said? He was obviously projecting. Ginevra Weasley had moved on. She even had a boyfriend of her own, the key work being _had_. She refused to think about that arse, Michael Corner, right now. Just the thought of how he broke up with her…

"Ginny," Hermione said carefully, pulling her back into the conversation. "Maybe you should go after Harry and talk to him---"

Her heart jumped. Hermione did _not_ just ask her to…? "Oh no, I'm not going to be your errand girl, I can't make him talk."

Stupid, stupid! She had protested too much. They would know. What would they know? There was nothing _to_ know. What was wrong with her?

"Why not? He's talked to you before," Hermione argued reasonably. Far too reasonably, for Ginny's taste.

It was no good. Ginny knew that she couldn't go after Harry no matter how much she wanted to. "I've talked. He's brooded, besides this is different, worse. He's grieving. We're all grieving," she faded off. She really didn't want to think about that right now.

"I know that," Hermione snapped and then tempered herself. "It's just he needs us right now."

Ginny shook her head. He needed Ron and Hermione, not her. "He doesn't need me." Suddenly, she couldn't stay there any longer. Ginny quickly gathered her things. In a moment Hermione would convince her to go after Harry.

Not that that was all that _bad_ a thing. It was a wonderful excuse really. She was just doing it to put Hermione's mind at ease. "I'll see you both later," Ginny called back as she hurried out of the room.

She was out the door before anyone could stop her. In the hallway, she came to an abrupt stop. Now what? Was she going after Harry? Did she really want to start the whole stalking thing again? This was different, though. She wasn't just following Harry. She was going to talk to him, as a friend. She just wanted to be his friend, which he needed right now, desperately.

The events of the last few days washed over her, making tears come to her eyes…Sirius. Oh god. No, she needed to concentrate on Harry. He was the one who needed comfort. After all, what else could she _do_ about it all?

Ginny practically ran all the way to Hagrid's. She knew that the kids on the lawn were staring at her, but she didn't care. She needed to get there before Harry left. When she arrived at the cabin door she was gasping for breath. She forced herself to pause until she was breathing normally before she knocked. Hagrid answered and greeted her with a beaming smile.

"'Allo, Ginny. So nice to 'ave so many guests. You just missed Harry. He just left."

Her stomach fell. She forced her face to freeze and not show the disappointment she felt. Hagrid was too pleased to see her. She made herself go into the cabin, to drink Dandelion juice, and make conversation. All while she counted the minutes, calculating how long she could stay before she could leave without hurting the large kindhearted man's feelings. Every minute there would make it harder to find Harry.

She decided she had to stay thirty minutes. Ginny excused herself after twenty.

When she was finally free, Ginny tried to maintain a calm composure as she searched the lawn. She weaved through the disgustingly cheerful students as they called out greetings to her. Didn't any of them have a clue that their whole world was on the brink of disaster? But she didn't want to think about that.

Shite. He wasn't anywhere. She began to walk the edge of the forest. Students often went just inside the edge to get some privacy. It was generally safe if you…

Oh god. There, snogging up against a large oak tree, _their_ bloody oak tree was none other than her recently ex-boyfriend and…Cho Chang. God damned Cho Chang. Oh, how she hated that little…Ginny just hated her.

"Mmm, Cho," Michael moaned as he pulled away. Pulled away and looked right at Ginny.

Her humiliation was complete. She smiled at him with every drop of evil she had in her heart. "Michael."

"Hey, Ginny," the prat's voice squeaked. No, prat was too good for him. The prick's voice squeaked like a ponce as he pushed away from his little slag. At least he had the decency to blush.

"Um, hi," Cho said softly, wiping her mouth. Then the little bitch said the wrong thing. "Sorry…"

"Sorry?" Ginny said vindictively. "What for? Being second seems to work for you. Second at Quidditch, second under this tree…" With that she gave a bright smile and turned on her heel and stalked off.

She had a giddy satisfaction as she heard Cho hiss, "You took _her_ here."

"Oww," Michael whined. "Cho, I…"

Good riddance, Ginny thought. The satisfaction was incredibly short lived. The farther she walked, the worse she felt.

Michael had broken up with her the day after the Department of Mysteries. Her brother was in the bloody hospital wing, she had just been through hell, and her boyfriend breaks up with her over Quidditch…_Quidditch._

The little whore can have him. Ginny wiped her eyes. She would not cry one more tear over Michael Corner. She had more important things to cry over and she still needed to find Harry.

She paused in the middle of the lawn, frustrated, humiliated, and depressed. Maybe she should just give up. Why couldn't she find him? What if something bad happened? So many people wanted Harry dead. Just because you couldn't Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds… Death Eaters had legs didn't they? They could walk.

Not to mention the state of mind Harry was in. He might do something foolish. Wait, how depressed was Harry? He wouldn't do something reckless, something he couldn't take back, would he?

That thought spurred Ginny into action. She ran back into the castle and up to Gryffindor Tower. She glowered at the fat lady when she made Ginny catch her breath before she accepted the password.

Luckily the tower was empty, because Ginny didn't pause as she ran directly to the fifth year boy's dormitory. Finding it vacant, she thought she would cry. In desperation, she even checked the boy's shower. She didn't know what she would have done if someone besides Harry had been in there, but no one was there at all.

Ginny knew she should give up. Harry could be anywhere. Obviously, he didn't want to be found. It was almost dinner time. Maybe she'd try to head him off at the Great Hall. Oh yeah, he wasn't eating.

There was only one place left Ginny could think of to try. Ginny wound herself through the castle to the Astronomy Tower. It was where she went when she didn't want to be found.

Of course, he wasn't there. So, she tried one last act of desperation. Ginny picked up a telescope and scanned the lawn one more time. Just as she was about to give up, there he was, huddled by the lake, shielded by bushes.

She let the telescope drop in relief. She could still see him, now that she knew where he was. Ginny watched him until the air cooled and the sun neared the horizon, trying to decide if she should go to him.

She finally decided to meet him when he stood and began to walk back to the castle. Once again indecision could have been her down fall. Maybe if she ran she could still cut him off in the entranceway. Again, she took off at a dead run, one thought floating through her.

Ginny really needed to remember that she did _not_ fancy Harry Potter.

* * *

The group had fallen into a contemplative silence after Harry left the infirmary. Hermione watched Harry walk out of the hospital wing and her heart broke for her friend. 

How could he survive this? He must be dying inside. Hermione thought about the guilt that she felt for allowing them to go on their 'rescue mission.' There were just so many things Hermione should have done differently.

The minute Harry had mentioned going to the Ministry, Hermione knew it was a mistake. She knew it was a trap. She shouldn't have let them go. Of course, it was a trap, how could it be anything but? Especially with Harry's not having learned Occlumency. She should have _made_ him learn. She should have read a book on it and taught him herself.

Instead, she had been preoccupied with the OWLs. As if grades were nearly this important. If Hermione wasn't so full of pride, if it wasn't so important to her to be the top student in the class, to be known as the 'brightest witch of her age,' then maybe she could have helped Harry. Maybe none of this would have happened.

But the OWLs weren't her only distraction. She glanced over at her other best friend as he shoveled chocolate frogs into his mouth. No, she had far worse distractions than school.

Not making Harry learn Occlumency was only the first of Hermione's mistakes. It had been _her_ idea to Floo Sirius. She initiated the breaking of the rules and the betrayal of her Prefect status that led to further misinformation and a series of events that led to Sirius's death.

She had made so many decisions foolishly. There were so many things she wasn't proud of. Hermione couldn't even _look_ at Professor Umbridge in the bed across the room. What had she been thinking?

Even filled with self recrimination and shame, Hermione knew it was a thousand times worse for Harry. If she felt sick with guilt, then he must be drowning. Harry, who felt the weight of the world's problems as if they were his alone… A true hero, with expectations of himself that no one could ever fulfill.

If only he'd _talk _to her. She could make him see that it wasn't his fault, that no one blamed him. They _all_ felt guilty, they all missed Sirius, and they were all afraid. But Hermione couldn't talk to him. He was gone and she couldn't follow.

Silence followed, interrupted only by the tearing of chocolate frog boxes as Ron continued to eat frog after frog. Ginny was curled up at Hermione's feet, playing with her blanket, a far away expression on her face.

Hermione scanned her four friends, her finally resting on Ron as he played with his frog cards and munched. On the surface, he seemed the least affected by everything that happened. He looked so normal. Ron always looked so normal. He always managed to seem like just the average wizard, even in the midst of battle.

There was nothing average about Ronald Weasley. The normalcy was a mirage. The simplicity an act. And the calm…that was a lie.

Hermione knew the truth. She knew that he was brave beyond measure, loyal beyond reason, and, in his own way, more brilliant than he would ever realize. She also knew that every night he cried real tears and screamed out in terror. The affects of the Department of Mysteries were eating away at all of them.

Unbidden, Hermione's mind flashed to an image of the night before. She saw Ron kneeling over her, holding her wrist with more tenderness than anyone would think Ronald Weasley was capable of. Just one more thing he hid from the world.

It was moments like that, when he touched her, when he looked at her with such caring. It made her think there was a chance for them. All these little moments were what kept her going.

Hermione shook her head to clear it. Was now really the time for romantic wonderings? With everything that was going on, how could she be so shallow?

She forced herself to look at her other three friends. Luna continued to read her paper, seemingly oblivious to her surroundings. Neville appeared sad and downtrodden. Ginny had a far away expression…wait, she her gaze lingered down at the girl at her feet. Just because Hermione was stuck in this bed…

"Ginny," she said carefully, her mind working rapidly to develop a plan. "Maybe you should go after Harry and talk to him---"

Ginny's eyes flew to hers. "Oh no, I'm not going to be your errand girl. I can't _make_ him talk."

"Why not, he's talked to you before," she wheedled. If Ginny was to talk to Harry, maybe he wouldn't feel so alone. Maybe she could convince him to come back to the hospital wing. Ginny _had_ to convince him.

"I've talked. He's brooded," Ginny said in a self depreciating tone. "Besides this is different, worse. He's grieving. We're all grieving," she finished, absently.

"I know that," Hermione snapped, before she had time to think. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "It's just he needs us right now."

Ginny looked at her with misery. "He doesn't need me."

Hermione met her gaze. Did Ginny still fancy Harry despite everything she said? Despite Michael Corner? Is that what was going on here? Otherwise, it didn't make sense. Ginny was as good at getting Harry to talk as anyone. Not that that was saying much.

Before Hermione realized what was happening Ginny had quickly gathered her things. "I'll see you both later." She was out of the room before Hermione could think of a reply. She was left to stare after her friend, her jaw ajar.

Neville and Ron called out distracted goodbyes and Luna looked up only after she was gone, scanning the room as if to determine what was different. Frowning sullenly, Ron went back to eating those ruddy chocolate frogs with a vengeance.

Having failed miserably with her plan, Hermione turned her focus on the familiar. "Ron, you are going to make yourself ill if you keep eating all those frogs," she said disapprovingly.

She knew she was nagging. She liked nagging. It felt good. It was familiar and comfortable. If she couldn't save Harry from himself, Hermione could at least save Ron from a stomachache. At least Ron needed her. For now anyway.

"Rey make me feel redder H'mione," he said with his mouth full. He swallowed, "We're supposed to eat chocolate when we're not feeling well," Ron pouted. "Right, Neville?"

"What," the awkward boy sputtered, looking panicked. His eyes darted quickly between Ron and Hermione. "Er, sure…I mean no…what was that again?"

Ron frowned at the total lack of support. Instead, he turned the full force of his puppy-dog-eyes on Hermione. He was adorable. The blue eyes and pleading expression made her insides melt. It made her remember the liquidy sensations she had felt last night that traveled up her wrist to... Well, Hermione didn't actually understand just what Ron made her feel. She only knew that it only happened with him.

With practiced poise, she made sure he never knew the power he had over her. "I think you passed the point of medicinal about two dozen frogs ago," she told him. If she ignored the tingling sensation in her stomach it would go away. It always did.

"Oh and how many frogs exactly is _medicinal,_ Hermione?" Ron asked sarcastically. "Maybe I should keep eating and we'll see exactly how many one can eat before vomiting." He defiantly bit into a wriggling frog.

Now she was annoyed. Hermione felt the first flames on anger begin to ignite. This was good. This was an even better distraction.

"That's really mature, Ron." She crossed her arms and sat back on the bed.

"Um guys, don't you think…?" Neville broke in softly, freezing as Hermione glared at him. Neville didn't understand. Hermione _needed_ a good fight right now.

Ron didn't even acknowledge his friend's words. His narrowed eyes were fixed securely at Hermione. That was the other thing she loved about fighting. He always fixed his full attention on her, the full force of his passion.

"Fine," Ron hissed, throwing his frog onto his bed stand. "Are you happy?"

She wasn't, not one bit. "Yes," she replied.

Great, now Hermione was struggling with guilt again. Guilt for snapping at Ron, but even more so for dwelling on decidedly impure and completely pointless feelings for one of her best friends, while the other was going through agony. Not to mention that another was gone for good.

Damn it! Hermione normally didn't swear, but she _had_ to get out of this hospital bed. She needed to _do _something. She needed to help Harry, she needed to make him talk, or go to the library and research something… anything.

"Blimey, Hermione, you don't need to pout just because I ate a few frogs. I stopped didn't I?" Ron griped, sounding hurt.

"I'm not…" Hermione started to say to defend herself, but what could she say? She hadn't meant to hurt Ron. He looked so dejected, sitting there starring down at his arms, poking at his healing scars. She should apologize.

"Ron, leave your ointment alone." Why did she say that? He shot daggers at her and she deserved it. Once she started nagging she couldn't seem to stop.

"Ok," Neville said, hurriedly standing. We're gonna go. Come on, Luna." He pulled on Luna's arm and she looked up at him, perplexed. She must have recognized his desperation, because she followed his hasty retreat without question.

"Good job, Hermione, now you've driven everyone away," Ron shot at her bitterly.

She couldn't take it anymore. It was all too much. Sirius. Harry. Ginny. Neville. Luna. Ron's scorn was the last little bit she could take. Hermione burst into tears. No preamble, just full gut wrenching sobs. Tears gushed down her face. Her whole body shook from the force of it. Heavens, she was pathetic.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" Ron cried his voice panicked. "I didn't mean to... Why'd you have to go and…."

The poor boy, she knew he hadn't meant it. It really wasn't his fault, but she couldn't catch her breath to reassure him. Hermione was just as powerless in this as she was with everything else. She buried her eyes in her hands, at least blocking out the pained expression she had caused on his face.

The bed shifted, and she barely registered that he must be now sitting next to her. Hermione felt his hands awkwardly touch her shoulders. It felt better than she deserved. "Will you at least look at me?" he pleaded.

His tone pulled at her heart. Hermione wanted to give him what he wanted, but she had so little energy left in her. Slowly, she dragged her hands down. She _could_ at least look at him, he did deserve that much. She needed to get under control, to face his annoyance and irritation and be done with it. Yet, when she looked into his eyes all she saw was tenderness and caring in their bright blue depths.

Hermione felt herself fall into him. Even the thought of Ron's poor raw, wounded chest and arms couldn't stop her. Why should it when the sharp pains cutting through her ribs with every sob, couldn't convince her body to stop? Tentative arms encircled her.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione managed to whimper into his chest, her arms curled up into a tight ball under her chin.

Ron made a sound that was half choked sob, half laugh. His breath ruffled her messy curls and his arms tightened around her back. They squeezed her and hurt her ribs and made her feel thankfully alive. She thought this was the best thing she had ever felt.

"Ron," she said, just to reiterate to herself that this was indeed Ron Weasley there with her. He was doing such a good job of it. It almost seemed too much like a fantasy to be real, stabbing pains or not.

"Shhh," he murmured, holding her confidently. Too confidently for Ron. He even began to rock her slightly and rubbed her back lightly.

Just when she thought Ron couldn't surprise her, he did. Hermione grabbed his shirt and allowed herself to give in completely. When did Ron get so mature, so strong?

Heavens, what was she going to do now?

* * *

When Harry first sat in his hidden spot by the lake, the sun was at its peak brightness. The wind was light, just enough to take the edge off the hot sunshine. The air smelled of grass and new growth. It was a perfect June day. 

It wasn't until the steady din of happy voices started getting quieter that Harry noticed the sun was nearer to the horizon and the air had cooled. He realized that everyone must be going in to get ready for dinner.

Harry was glad for it. In his isolated corner by the lake and shrubs they couldn't see him, but he could hear _them_. Hear the glad cries and mindless happy chatter.

Why was everyone so bloody happy? Didn't they know that there was nothing in the world to be happy about? Didn't they understand that horrors beyond their imagination were just over the horizon and after that… There was no safety, there was no trust, and there was no one to turn to. Adults degraded you or betrayed you, lied to you or left you. Even if they wanted to protect you, they couldn't. Or maybe that was just him.

As the voices quieted, he felt even more alone. Harry didn't know if he could handle the solitude, but he didn't really deserve anything else. Maybe _this_ was his destiny. To be on his own, so he could battle Voldemort and kill or be killed, so that everyone else could live their normal lives. Maybe the reason everyone around him died was because he wasn't supposed to have people… friends and, especially, family.

Maybe there was darkness in his soul. Maybe the universe had created a necessary evil, someone just evil enough to kill the monster. That would explain why Harry couldn't have a normal life. He didn't deserve it.

The sun was getting lower and it was getting cold. He got up to walk back to the castle, though he didn't recall making that decision or why it might be a good one. His muscles ached from sitting in one position for too long. He had no idea how long, really. On the walk through the lawn he realized his cheeks were wet. Harry wiped them with his sleeve.

Not that it mattered. He was beyond caring if someone saw him cry. Harry was surprised, however. He actually thought himself beyond crying.

Inside, he paused in front of the Great Hall, watching the students file in for dinner. The food was just about to appear, Harry knew. He was disgusted by all the smiling faces. He knew he couldn't go in there. The mere thought made him nauseated. He turned, intent on getting as far away from there as possible… but where should he go?

"Harry!"

Shite. He froze, panic rising in him. Oh god, please just leave him alone. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Harry," the breathless voice called again, closer this time.

He fought the urge to run in the other direction as fast as he could. He wanted to run...to run and run and run, until there was nowhere left to run to. Finally turning, he saw Ginny rushing toward him, looking disheveled and out of breath. He breathed a sigh of relief.

It could be much worse. At least Ginny knew what happened. She wouldn't ask him stupid questions. She wouldn't expect him to be happy. Regardless, Harry couldn't manage even a smile in greeting.

She ran up to him, doubling over to catch her breath. Where had she run from? After a moment she gasped, "You…going in to…eat."

He stared at her. Why was she asking? Was she going to try and make him eat? "I'm not hungry," he told her. His voice was oddly toneless to his ears.

Ginny looked him over. She had a hand to her chest as her breathing normalized, and a frown on her face. "Neither am I," she said matter-of-factly.

Harry nodded, for want of anything else to do. He didn't know what to say. He wondered what she wanted from him. Her gaze was too intense. He had to look to the floor. He put his hands in his pockets and shuffled a bit.

"Um…so, Harry," she began. Here it came. Whatever she wanted from him. He steeled himself for it. "Could you do me a favor?"

His panic rose, his eyes flying back to her face. No fair. She couldn't ask him to do a favor without telling him what it was. He didn't respond.

"I…uh…could you take a walk with me? Um, I really don't want to see anyone or talk to anybody. They're all so irritatingly cheerful, you know. I, uh," she bit her lip, and glanced away. "I figure if I was walking with you, no one would bother me."

Harry almost laughed. No, no one would dare approach her when she was with the sullen Harry Potter. He was dangerous. They all knew enough to stay away.

He considered her request. Was it really just as she said? It could be a trick, a way to corner him and force him to talk. Hermione could have sent Ginny to do her dirty work. It was just the sort of thing his best mate would do. Though, Ginny didn't seem to type to be easily manipulated.

"We don't have to talk," she blurted out, then blushed. Harry smiled a bit, nodding. Sometimes she so reminded him of her brother. Might as well. He couldn't think of anything else to do anyway. She sighed in relief and they headed back out onto the lawn.

True to her promise, they walked in silence. Harry didn't know what to think of that. It was nice, certainly. This wasn't necessarily a good thing. He was still left to his thoughts, but for some reason, with Ginny there, they never got _too_ dark, which was good and bad. Part of him wanted to sink as low as he could possibly go. He was comforted by the dank blackness. At least then, he knew he was serving his punishment.

After a long while, Harry chanced a glance at Ginny, she seemed lost in thought as well. He wondered what she was thinking. She caught him looking at her and gave him a small smile. His stomach turned at having been caught. The edges of his lips twitched in some semblance of a smile, before he went to looking back straight ahead. The longer they walked, the more he wondered why Ginny was even there with him. It was peculiar really.

They were half way to Hogsmeade by then. What if they kept walking? Could they walk straight through the village? What was on the other side? Could they walk all the way to the ocean? Then what? How long would it take for anyone to notice they were gone?

"Harry, look," Ginny said softly. Even the quiet sound grated his ears, after the long silence. His brow furrowed as his eyes followed her pointing finger. Up past the trees lining the dirt road to Hogsmeade, Hagrid was talking to someone.

Instinctively, Harry walked toward the sight, needing to get a better look. Hagrid seemed to be standing in front of a woman… a witch in robes. They seemed to be arguing. The witch skirted around him and continued toward the castle, leaving Hagrid to amble after her.

Harry's heart rate accelerated, as he continued to move toward them. He noticed Ginny, hurrying to keep up. Abruptly, he paused. Harry reached out and grabbed Ginny's arm.

"What?" she hissed, it was barely a whisper.

"I'm doing it again," he said blankly. "Rushing into danger, playing the hero, getting people killed." He looked down at her. It was bad enough that he was moving blindly into danger. He was dragging Ginny along with him. Again.

Ginny looked at him in confusion. Her expression quickly turned to annoyance. Her eyes narrowed, and then rolled. "Fine! Then I'm rushing into danger, and you had better follow me or_ I_ might die, Mr. Hero." She pulled away and ran ahead of him.

Harry opened his mouth to scream after her, but stopped as he realized that would put them in even greater danger. "Shite," he muttered under his breath, before running to catch up.

In the fading light, it was easy for the two teenagers to make their way unnoticed to the road. Harry joined Ginny behind a particularly large tree trunk, just ahead of where Hagrid and the Witch were arguing.

The witch was walking toward them at a brisk pace. "I told you," she was saying. "I'm not telling anyone who I am or why I'm here, except the person I came to see." She sounded frustrated and tired, though she still managed to look poised for some reason. There was something strange about her speech.

Harry glanced down at Ginny, who was pressed tightly against the tree. She caught his gaze, mouthing, "American."

Oh. That was strange. Harry looked to the street again. They were getting closer, he could now see the woman had long black hair and annoyed expression.

Hagrid was trying to over take her, but though his legs were longer, his bulk prevented him from matching her speed. "Who do you want to speak to?" he asked anxiously. When she didn't answer he prompted, "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Not specifically, but I suppose it's inevitable." Her concentration seemed else where.

Hagrid was able to make it around her and cut her off again. She paused in front of him frowning. She crossed her arms and looked up at his intimidating height, saying, "Look, it's been a long walk from the village. I'd forgotten how long. Your stupid no Apparating nonsense…" she took a deep breath. "I really need to get to the damn castle."

Hagrid crossed his arms as well. "I'm not movin' till you tell me who it is yer here to see." His attempt at intimidation was dampened by his clear anxiety.

"Fine," the woman snapped. "I'm here to see Harry Potter."

All the breath left Harry's body and the world seemed to dim and sensations dampened. The feel of Ginny's nails biting into his arm brought him back to reality. He put a hand on her back, to comfort her…or to steady himself, he wasn't sure which. He forced himself to listen to the conversation.

"But…but," Hagrid was stuttering, clearly thrown. "You can't see Harry!" he blurted and Harry felt a rush of warmth at his loyalty.

The witch's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah? Why not?'

The large man sputtered some more. He was awful at thinking on his feet, even more so when he had to lie. "'Cause…'cause Harry's not 'ere."

The woman seemed to be hiding her amusement. "Really? That's interesting, given that he's behind that tree over there, watching us."


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_ and is rated R.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Two

* * *

**

Hagrid sputtered, "'Cause, 'cause Harry's not 'ere."

The strange woman seemed to be amused. "Really? That's interesting, given that he's behind that tree over there, watching us."

Oddly enough, Harry wasn't particularly surprised at the witch's announcement that he and Ginny were hiding behind a tree, spying on her. Perhaps, he had finally reached his limit for revelations. Maybe he'd just reached his limit for emotions in general. Had he finally gone numb?

Nails dug into his arm, deep enough to draw blood… now _that_ wasn't numb. Suddenly, Harry was very aware of Ginny next to him. He forced himself to think about what they should do. Should they run? Should they confront the woman? Perhaps Harry could distract her, and then Ginny could run. Could he convince her to go? Not likely. He sighed helplessly, and watched to see what the woman would do next.

Hagrid was still stammering and shaking his head. "No! What! No. Harry's not there—here, I mean…no," he insisted.

The woman rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips as she looked over where the two teenagers stood. "Come on out, Harry. You're not accomplishing anything by dawdling. What do you think I'm going to do to you, anyway?"

Harry almost laughed. What would she do to him? The possibilities were endless. Harry turned to insist Ginny stay put…

"And your friend, too," the witch said in a weary tone. "It's getting late. Don't you want to know who I am and why I'm here? Trust me, you want to know." The last part was muttered, but it caught Harry's attention.

Ginny pulled away and walked out from behind the tree before he had time to consider there next move. She left Harry with nothing to do but follow, shaking his head with annoyance. Hell of a lot of good it did trying to be noble with _that_ girl. She had a bloody death wish.

"Look, what we have here," the woman said, throwing Hagrid an I-told-you-so look. She walked briskly toward them. Harry took a step closer to Ginny, as the witch stopped a few feet in front of them. She took a deep breath, her expression losing a touch of its edge. "So, you're Harry," she said, looking him over carefully. Harry thought he saw a moment of vulnerability, but it quickly left as she turned her attention to the girl next to him. "And you are…Ginny, is it?"

Something about the witch knowing Ginny's name made Harry's heart clench. He grabbed Ginny's arm and hauled her next to him.

The woman formed an amused smile, then her brow furrowed. "Huh," she said, her expression changing. She looked like she had just encountered an intriguing puzzle. "Well, isn't this interesting?" She shook her head and gave a soft bitter laugh. "Destiny has quite the sense of humor, don't you think?"

Ginny sneered, "So, you know who we are. Who the hell are you?" Harry looked at her wide eyed. The red-head certainly had stones, more than were good for her.

The strange witch's lips twitched, showing no signs of intimidation. He saw Ginny clutch the wand in her pocket. If the woman noticed, she ignored it, saying simply, "I'm Adrianna."

"Adrianna what?" Ginny bit out angrily. Harry pulled her back. That girl was going to get herself hexed.

The woman's eyes lit with the challenge thrown at her. "American Aurors don't have last names. Not ones that we use anyway."

Harry sensed Ginny's sharp retort coming and he pulled her back roughly, purposefully stepping in front of her. He didn't need her antagonizing this woman, especially if she were telling the truth about being an Auror. Shite, what must an American Auror be like? They thought Mad-Eye was around the bend. He could just imagine the recklessness.

"So, why are you here?" he asked carefully. Harry tried to get control of the situation, tried to pay attention to everything that was happening. It was _so_ hard. His brain hadn't been working as quickly since Sirius had… He shook his head to clear it. The woman was looking at him with an almost concerned expression. It really pissed him off. "Well?" he snapped.

The irritating concerned look turned back into a bitter smile. Harry was relieved. "I'm here…" she began, and then stopped to sigh again. "Because, as I said, destiny's got a wicked sense of humor and apparently I'm just destiny's bitch so…"

Harry eyes narrowed, not in the mood for diatribes or cryptic nonsense.

"Fine," she said shortly. "I had a vision. When I ignore visions really, really bad things happen. So, I do as I'm told. This particular vision said you and your friends are in danger. There are two others…another redhead and a curly haired girl…?"

Harry's thoughts flashed to his friends in the hospital wing, his hand tightened around Ginny's arm. He wasn't going to let anything happen to them.

The concerned expression was back on this _Adrianna's_ face. "Are they all right?" she asked. Harry shook his head, not understanding what she was asking. "Relax, I didn't come all this way to hurt you," she said wearily.

He scowled at her. "Well, you delivered your message. You can go back to wherever you came from now." Harry started to back away. It was difficult as Ginny didn't seem to want to be dragged along and he _wasn't_ leaving her behind.

"Hold your horses, cowboy," Adrianna laughed. "If that was it, I'd have sent an Owl. I'm here to protect you."

"What!" Ginny screeched.

Harry pulled on her arm, cutting her off. "I don't want your protection," he bit out.

The witch was unfazed by their protests. "You have about as much say in this as I do, which is practically none. I'm here whether you like it or not."

Harry couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't believe Hagrid was just standing there like a bloody rock. He had to get Ginny out of there. He needed to get word to Dumbledore.

"We can go find Dumbledore if you'd like, that's fine," the strange woman said calmly.

Harry took a sharp intake of breath. That wasn't the first time the woman had answered an unspoken thought or question.

"You're reading our minds!" Ginny accused heatedly, before Harry had a chance. Adrianna's expression was completely unapologetic, which only made another wave of fury radiate from Ginny. "How are you doing it?" she demanded. "Seers are not generally good at Legilimency."

"I am not a Seer," the witch stated firmly, as if disgusted by the thought. "And it is _not_ Legilimency. I'm an Empath. It's all part of the fun prize package."

It was too much information for Harry. He didn't understand. "What's an Empath?" he hissed to Ginny. She shook her head.

"You're kidding," Adrianna said incredulously. "You've never heard of Empaths? You know, people go on about this great Hogwarts' education, like it's the best ever. Pathetic."

Ginny visibly bristled and harshly countered, "Yeah, well I know that Empaths read emotions and _not_ thoughts."

"Evidently, we can do both." The woman's expression was smug. "Especially, when the thoughts and emotions are particularly well connected." Ginny's jaw was clenched tight. Harry wondered what she'd do if he let go of her arm.

Hagrid cleared his throat, stepping forward nervously. "The study of Empaths isn' priority 'ere, miss, seein' as they're all dead. Er, I mean, we _thought_ they were all dead."

Harry's eyes flew to the woman whose claim had just been refuted. Ginny gave a small triumphant "humph" at Hagrid's words, if to say, 'Ha! Explain that!'

The woman's eyes flashed. She seemed genuinely angry for the first time. "Really and why would you _presume_ such a thing?"

Hagrid swallowed. "'Cause ther last known Empath were twelve when…" The large man faded off and his eyes widened as he looked over the woman. "Blimey, wha' did yeh say yer name was?"

The woman seemed to deflate a bit at his expression, but she didn't answer him. She almost seemed anxious.

"Adrianna," Harry answered for her, wanting to know why Hagrid was having this reaction. "She said it was Adrianna. Does that mean something to you, Hagrid?"

His large friend's eyes flew between Harry and the woman repeatedly, back and forth. "Blimey," he said breathlessly. "Blimey...that's…that's just not possible."

The woman smiled an ironic smile, "Course it's possible."

"But she…you…Blimey…" Whatever she was, it was clearly shaking Hagrid. He looked like he was about to hyperventilate.

"_What_!" Ginny demanded with impatience. "Who is she?"

Adrianna ignored her, instead approaching Hagrid and placing a hand under the man's elbow. "Hagrid, you seem a bit unsteady on your feet. Maybe we should get you back to your cabin. I don't know if I know a spell strong enough to move you if you should pass out," she joked. "Besides, I'm exhausted and they," Adrianna looked at Harry and frowned, "haven't eaten for…days? Hmm. You certainly need someone to look after you, don't you?"

"How dare you—" Ginny bit out.

"I dare a lot of things," she said casually. "Come on." She gave a slight pull at Hagrid's elbow.

Their large friend looked down at her, asking with awe, "Is it really you?"

"It's really me," she said gently and to Harry's surprise when she put pressure on Hagrid's elbow this time, he followed easily. As they walked toward his cabin, Harry stood frozen in indecision. "You coming?" Adrianna threw over her shoulder.

Harry looked down at Ginny. She was looking up at him with question and longing. He watched her eyes follow the two down the path. It was clear Ginny wanted to find out what was going on, whatever danger that might entail.

Sighing, Harry threw his better judgment to the wind and followed.

* * *

Ron sat against the short, uncomfortable headboard of Hermione's hospital bed. She was stretched out next to him on her side, her head resting on his chest, crying silently. Ron clumsily attempted a soothing, circular pattern on her back with his hand. 

That's what one was supposed to do, right? The circle thing? He seemed to remember that's how his mum comforted Ginny when the twins had destroyed yet another of her dolls.

After Ron had summoned every ounce of Gryffindor courage he possessed to approach his sobbing best friend… Holy shite, he had touched her. He actually initiated an embrace with Hermione. Hermione, his best mate. The _girl_ best mate. The brilliant, perfect, pretty one.

Wow, that was quite a bit of courage Ron had found there. Not that it meant _anything_. It was just a friend thing, a comfort thing. Hermione had been really upset. He would have been a complete prat not to do something about it. Even still, it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

He had touched her. On purpose. It didn't seem like a big thing, but it was. For some unknown reason Ron had been terrified to touch Hermione since the day they met. It was mental really. It wasn't as if he was standoffish. He came from an affectionate family. Casual friendly touching was something that he had always been comfortable with.

Hermione had always been the exception. From the day they met, touching her just made him…uneasy. He figured it was just that she was so intimidating, so pristine, so perfect. Past that, he had never thought much of it. Then last year when he randomly had this thought. This odd, uncomfortable thought that touching her would be… bloody brilliant.

It was an strange thought. Ron often wished he had never thought it. He had been sitting next to her in class and pop, he had the thought that it would be fantastic if his hand touched hers. Just a brush, nothing special. The thought was so disquieting that he had quickly initiated an argument that guaranteed he wasn't in touching distance of her for two weeks.

The thought faded and Ron had been relieved that things went back to normal. Then a month later she leaned over to show him something in his Charms book and her hand _did_ brush his…and it _was_ bloody brilliant. Why, he didn't know. It was just a brush. It shouldn't feel good. It shouldn't feel like much of anything, especially when it was your best mate.

So, again he started a row. And so it went. Periods of calm and then the thoughts came back, just briefly, and threw him off balance again. Then there was the time she kissed him before the Quidditch match. Ron didn't even want to think about the crazy things _that_ did to him. No wonder he played so poorly.

But this time Ron had initiated it. It was the very first non-accidental touch Ron Weasley had initiated with Hermione Granger, his best friend who was also a girl. Exactly the kind of girl one shouldn't be touching. She deserved more respect than a stupid bloke touching her for his own perverted pleasure. Only a boyfriend was allowed to do that. And since Ron couldn't think of a single wizard worthy of that title, no man should be receiving that particular pleasure from his Hermione.

The biggest problem with that was that Ron currently _was_ receiving a perverted thrill from embracing her. He had to constantly remind himself that this was about comforting her, not about his pleasure. He _had_ to embrace her. Hermione needed him.

Ron was merely making her feel better and it seemed to be working. Well, she seemed to have calmed down at least. Her eyes were closed and she was all soft and pliable against him. She was kind of clinging to his shirt, as well. That meant she was comforted, didn't it? For once in his whole bloody life, Ron seemed to have done something right.

Not that he knew what he was doing. When Hermione started to cry, he had panicked. Embracing her had been an act of desperation. He fully expected her to rail at him or push him away in confusion. Yet, she hadn't. She had kind of fallen into him, and soaked his shirt with tears. It was rather scary, really.

Also, it was somewhat painful. It was bloody uncomfortable leaning over a girl for so long. His legs ached and his wounds burned. And damn could that girl cry, and cry, and cry. Madam Pomfrey had come and gone. She'd seen Hermione sobbing her heart out, sectioned off Professor Clipclop, and politely left them alone.

The frightening hiccup-sob thing Hermione was doing finally faded to ordinary weeping. It took another several minutes for Ron to build up the courage to listen to his aching back. He had managed to move them against the headboard to stretch out his overly long legs. 'Course, he hadn't taken into account the way the hospital bed head-board would dig into his back. At least Hermione looked comfortable That's all that really mattered.

Ron still couldn't believe he'd managed it. He certainly hadn't expected that he could _actually_ make her feel better. Hell, comforting a girl had never worked before, _especially_ not with Hermione. All he ever managed to do was make matters worse.

Yet, now she was curled up in his arms. He hoped she actually wanted to be there. Was she just being polite to spare his feelings? 'Cause that would be a very 'Hermione' thing to do. Ron snuck a glance at her face. She had stopped crying, but hadn't moved from where she was cuddled up against him. No, he was doing it right for _once_. He was sure of it.

He had tried to console a girl and it had worked and it wasn't some stupid simpering girl either. This was the ever-brilliant, ever-controlled, always-knows-what-to-do Hermione Granger. And right now, what she needed was him. He felt proud, humbled, and profoundly terrified all at once.

"Ron?" Hermione asked in an uncharacteristically small voice.

"Hmm?" he answered absently as he was pulled from his thoughts. This was the first either of them had spoken since the embrace began.

"I'm really worried about Harry."

Shite. Now, she wanted to talk. Holding her was one thing. Once he had managed to do it, it was hard to screw it up. But talking? There was no way he was going to be able to _say_ the right thing. God damn it, she was going to be back to yelling and blubbering at any moment.

Ron needed to think. Crap, what should he say? He was rubbish at this. Finally, he decided on agreeing with her. That was always safe . "Yeah, so am I." Ron swallowed, as he waited for her response. He was afraid she would see right through him, not that it wasn't true. He _was_ worried. He wasn't _obsessed_ like Hermione, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried.

"He's been through so much," she continued and Ron relaxed a bit, his first comment not having seemed to cause any real damage. "To never know your parents, to be raised by monsters, and _then_ to watch your Godfather die. To watch him die because you had been tricked, because he was trying to save _you_. It must be killing Harry."

Hermione closed her eyes with a soft whimper. Ron had the urge to brush her hair off her face. He even lifted his hand to do so. Then he noticed what he was doing and quickly dropped it. It took a full minute to realize Hermione wanted a response. Bloody hell. What could he say that was comforting when she was right about all of it?

"Harry will be all right," he said softly. Hermione pulled away and looked up at him, hopeful and expectant. Shite. Shite. Shite. Ron swallowed. "He's strong. Otherwise…um, how could he have got this far?"

Again Ron froze, fearing the response. Hermione looked down. His heart skipped a beat. She nodded, "That's true."

It was? He had said something true, something right? Like _he_ was right?

"But—"

But. Of course, there was a 'but.'

"What if _this_ is one time too many? What if it's the last thing he can take? What if he pulls away again and this time we can't get him to come back to us? You saw what happened after Cedric died, after he was left alone last summer, after your dad was attacked. This is going to be worse. What if we lose him forever? I know it's selfish, but I don't want to lose him," she broke off with another sob.

Ron pulled her back into his chest in instinctive desperation. She was killing him. He felt so helpless. "We won't lose him," he told her, more confidently than he felt. His voice was hoarse even to his own ears.

She pulled away again and looked him in the eyes, her jaw squared, her face streaked. "How do you know, Ron? How?" she demanded.

This is what he was afraid of. Now what? He steeled himself. "Because we won't let him?" Ron hoped she wouldn't notice that it was a question.

She pulled away in earnest this time. Bloody hell, he'd mucked it up now. Hermione wiped her face dry and tried to push back her mass of hair. It fell right back onto her face. Finally, she nodded and Ron released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

Hermione's spine straightened, resembling the girl he knew so well. She nodded with more confidence. "No, we won't."

Oh…well that went better than expected.

"We will…we'll just have to _make_ him talk about it," Hermione continued, speaking more and more rapidly. "We'll show him exactly how this isn't his fault and how he shouldn't feel guilty. You know what we should do? We should make a list. Two lists actually. One with all the things we need to tell him and another with strategies of how we'll make him listen." Hermione leaned over, reaching for parchment in the bed stand. She had barely moved when she cried out in pain. She doubled over gasping and clutching her side.

Ron watched her with growing dread. "Damn it, Hermione. Are you all right?" He went to reach for her, but had already forgotten how.

"Don't swear," she reprimanded between gasps.

That made Ron laugh and it jerked him out of his stillness. He carefully touched her arms and brought her back to lean against the headboard. As she struggled to control her breathing, Ron asked, "All right?"

Hermione shook her head violently. "No, I am not all right. I am sick of being an…an invalid. I need to go and find Harry."

"No, you don't," he said calmly. "This thing with Sirius can't be fixed. Harry's going to be grieving for a really long time. He doesn't need you killing yourself in order to force him to talk about it. This isn't an exam. You can't draw up a schedule for him and nag him until he's over it."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ron panicked. Now, he'd gone and done it.

"I know that!" Hermione cried

As predicted, Ron was making matters worse.

"I just need to _do_ something."

And of course, she burst out into tears again. He made her cry. Again. Way to go, Ron. He felt an intense need to run from his own incompetence. But she needed him more, so he took a deep breath. What was he supposed to say now?

"Hermione…" he started carefully and then he gave up. Words tumbled unbidden from his lips, "I dunno, Hermione… I dunno what to say. It's all overwhelming and horrible. I mean no one I've ever _really_ known has died before and I dunno what to do. All I know is I'm sorry I made you cry again. I'm just a giant prat."

Ron reveled in his own incompetence. Why would a girl like her even be friends with an idiot like him? He could barely string two cohesive words together.

Hermione looked up at him with watery eyes. "Oh Ron!" She launched herself at him. In shock, he could do nothing but catch her and hold her gratefully. "I just feel so awful. I can't stand it," she cried.

Ron wished she wouldn't say things like that. All he could do was nod into her shoulder and try not to humiliate himself by bursting out into tears.

"It's my entire fault," Hermione continued.

He pulled away roughly and looked in her eyes. "How can you say that?"

"I knew it was a trap. I should have—"

"Bulls—codswallop," Ron interrupted. "You were suspicious, we all were, but no one _knew_ what was going on. We just, just…" His voice caught, "wanted to help Sirius." Why did his throat have to be so thick?

"But I should have—"

"You should have what? Seen the future? You know what, I shouldn't have been walking around like a giddy bumbling idiot, breaking tanks with brains, and making matters worse. All while my best friends _and _sister were in mortal peril. If any one should feel guilty here, it's me." He closed his eyes with the shame of it.

Ron felt her touch his face. "That wasn't your fault," she whispered

Ron scoffed, refusing to open his eyes. "That's only because I'm not important enough for it to be my fault. I'm too extraneous to do anything but get in the way---"

"Stop it!" Hermione cut him off harshly, punctuating it with a slap to his shoulder. He winced as she hit a burn. "Sorry," she muttered.

Ron ignored her and the pain, shaking his head. Didn't she see what a royal screw up he was? "If I was better at Defense, if I took school more seriously I could have blocked the curse. If I was stronger, I could have fought it off. If I wasn't so thick and weak---"

"I said stop it!" She grabbed his face. "Open your eyes this instant."

Hermione could be such a bully. Ron opened his eyes. Her face was so close to his. He didn't deserve how good it felt to have her thumbs brushing away his pathetic tears as she cradled his face in her soft hands.

"I don't ever want to hear you say that again. They were just stronger than us." Her voice was almost seemed too strangled to continue. "And you _are _important. You're important to me." Shite, now she was crying again. They were both pathetic. Ron pulled her to him and rocked her. "You are not stupid!" she yelled into his shoulder.

He didn't answer her. As much as Ron appreciated Hermione's words, he knew they weren't true.

* * *

Ginny surveyed the people around her warily. Her arms tightly crossed, she sat stiffly at Hagrid's oversized table. 

Hagrid was anxious and distracted. He had the look he always had when he had a secret and no idea how he was going to keep it. He was doing his best to avoid eye contact with Harry and Ginny, bustling around the cabin, gathering a make-shift meal. Well, he was doing the large man's equivalent of bustling, moving as fast as his bulk would allow.

Harry sat next to her, uncomfortably close. He was doing an impressive display of his usual noble-hero crap, focused entirely on any threat this Adrianna would hold to Ginny. Typical Harry. That was the only thing typical about Harry's behavior.

Even now, with his defensive stance, Harry's expression was frighteningly blank. Ginny wondered if he even cared about what happened to himself anymore. She worried that if it weren't for Ginny's presence he'd accept this strange witch out of shear exhaustion and desperation.

That was where Ginny came in. It was her job to figure out exactly what Adrianna wanted. She gritted her teeth and leveled a steady gaze on the strange woman, determined to control her emotions and not let woman know what she was really thinking and feeling. And what she was feeling was confusion. Confusion and panic.

Not because she sensed danger…but because she didn't. Actually, she was a bit alarmed that she couldn't get a clear hold on Adrianna and her motives. Ginny considered herself a fairly perceptive person. She could size people up relatively quickly. Usually. This time, she just wasn't sure. What was clear was the woman was arrogant, rude, and annoying, which didn't necessarily equate to evil.

Instinctively, Ginny felt…well, her instincts didn't fail her often, but when they did it was not good. And right now, Ginny was not inclined to follow her instincts. There was something about this woman that drew her in, made her feel like lowering her defenses.

It must be magic, probably Empath magic. Yet, there was something familiar about the witch, the shape of her jaw, the curve of her mouth. It didn't matter, Ginny was determined _not_ to trust this woman and not to allow her to see her ambivalence.

A soft chuckle broke the silence. "Ginny?" the woman asked. "You _do_ get the concept of an Empath, right?"

Ginny's carefully composed expression fell away as the words sunk in. Shite.

Adrianna smiled Hagrid placed thick slices of meat pie and Dandelion juice in front of them. "Thanks. Eat," she commanded Harry.

To his credit, Harry didn't move a muscle. The woman lifted a fork full of pie to her lips. Ginny got a perverse sense of pleasure from the look of horror and disgust that came over her face. Adrianna turned a questioning look to Harry, who merely gave a half-hearted shrug.

Ginny watched with amusement as Adrianna frowned and looked around the room in what looked like a desperate attempt to get rid of the offending food. Catching Hagrid with his back turned, the witch flicked her wrist toward the back of the room, muttering something under her breath. A hanging cauldron clattered to the floor next to Fang, sending the dog into a rage of loud barking.

Ginny's stomach clenched as her fear of the witch increased. Her eyes were immediately drawn to Adrianna's face. Shite, now she knew that Ginny was afraid of her.

"Fang, ya mangy mutt," Hagrid said, ambling over to him. "What's got into ya, boy?"

As soon as the large man was distracted, Adrianna pulled out her wand. It immediately caught Ginny's attention. The wand was an odd champagne color with intricate carvings.

Adrianna leaned over the table; clearly intent on performing a spell on their food…like that would make them _more_ likely to eat it. But as she bent over, the witch froze, listening. There was a long moment where she appeared to be concentrating, listening to something at a great distance.

"How would Dumbledore know someone was on the grounds if they walked?" she asked, astonished. "He couldn't have spying devises along the entire perimeter."

There was a knock on the door. Ginny's heart rate further accelerated. Hagrid was looking around the room like frightened animal, not sure which way to turn. Though, to Ginny, it was Harry's _lack_ of response that was most concerning.

There was another knock and Hagrid sprung into action, moving to the door so quickly that the floor shook. He yanked the door open and breathed a sigh of relief. "Professors," he greeted.

Professor Dumbledore stepped into the cabin. "Hagrid, we heard you had a visitor," he greeted conversationally, a relaxed smile on his face.

Hagrid stepped back, allowing Professor McGonagall to enter as well. She wore a scowl that made Ginny shudder. Dumbledore approached Adrianna, considering her carefully. She rose to her feet warily, meeting the headmaster with a strange intensity. Did Dumbledore know that she was an Empath?

Ginny watched the quiet standoff, waiting for the woman to explain herself, but it was Hagrid who couldn't handle the silence. He burst out, "She's an Empath, Professors. Says she 'ad a vision and now she's 'ere ter protect Harry." There was a long beat where the teachers stared at Hagrid, McGonagall's eyes wide. The large man sputtered, more softly. "Says 'er name is Adrianna."

McGonagall gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes to Adrianna's. "That is _not_ possible."

Dumbledore remained calm, carefully perusing over Harry and the stranger in turn. Finally, he met Adrianna's steady gaze. "We had presumed you were dead," he told her.

Adrianna smiled a bitter smile. "And why would you _presume_ that?"

Dumbledore, ever unruffled, responded, "You disappeared from the magical world. No one could make contact."

She gave a short huff of a laugh. "And that equals dead?" Adrianna shook her head in annoyance. "You mustn't have tried very hard. I didn't disappear."

McGonagall broke in with a bark. "This is absurd. She isn't an Empath and she certainly isn't…_her_, Albus. It is preposterous."

"I beg your pardon," Adrianna said, her ire rising. "I most certainly _am_ an Empath and…_her_."

Ginny watched the exchange with growing dread. If she wasn't an Empath than what was she?

The Scottish professor was furious. She advanced on the woman, who stood her ground, merely tilting her chin up to keep the older woman's gaze. Adrianna's only sign of distress was the defensive manner in which she crossed her arms.

"Empaths do _not_ live past the age of twenty-four. _She_ would have been twenty-eight. Therefore _she_ is dead," the professor reasoned heatedly.

Adrianna's eye's narrowed. "I am well aware of being four years past my expiration date, but that only means I'm the oldest Empath in five centuries. _Not_ that I'm dead."

"It's impossible," McGonagall said even more forcefully. "_She_ must be dead, without magical training---"

There was a loud bang on the table, making Ginny jump. Her eyes jerked over as Harry stood. "Would someone please tell us who _she_ is?" he demanded.

Ginny could almost feel Harry's fury. It was wonderfully comforting. At least he was feeling something.

McGonagall's cool gaze went to Harry. "Mr. Potter, I think it would be best if you stepped outside for a moment---"

Adrianna laughed incredulously, crossing her arms tighter. "Harry stays."

"How dare you..." McGonagall snapped

"On the contrary," the woman said coolly. "I think you'll all agree that if I am who I say I am, then I have more of a right than anybody."

Ginny almost laughed. She hadn't said _who_ she was, no one had.

McGonagall drew herself up straighter. Ginny looked over to Dumbledore who seemed content to stand back and watch the action unfold. "You have a long way to go before you prove you are anyone, young lady," McGonagall said sternly.

Adrianna relaxed. "That's fine. I'll prove it then." She sat back in her chair.

"Wait---" Harry angrily began.

Adrianna's gaze went directly to his. She shook her head. "In a moment, Harry. Let me do this first."

Harry sat back sullenly, but without protest. Ginny began to worry over the influence this woman might be able to exert on her _very_ vulnerable friend.

Adrianna turned to the professors. "Are you going to join us?" she asked, gesturing to the chairs.

"Yes, yes," Hagrid said, suddenly realizing his lapse as a host. "Please sit. Can I get you a drink?"

Dumbledore graciously shook his head and pulled out a chair for Professor McGonagall. Sitting himself, he folded his hands calmly and fixed his gaze on Adrianna. "You understand, my dear, that we were under the impression that the Empath in question disappeared into Muggle America sixteen years ago and received no magical training."

Adrianna rolled her eyes. "I assure you. I have received plenty of magical training. Just recently, I spent two full years in Japan in almost _continual_ magical training…but regardless, you require proof?"

McGonagall's eyes narrowed as she crossed her arms tightly. "If you can manage."

Ginny sat back in frustration, now she was going to be forced to listen to the proof of something, when they no idea what that something was.

"The Empath in question was the first and only Empath born in the last century. Is that correct, Professor?" Adrianna was addressing McGonagall directly. The professor nodded tersely.

Adrianna leaned across the table and concentrating on McGonagall with a frightening intensity. "Right now, you are feeling guilt and a slight bit of panic. You are worried that I am telling the truth and maybe that means you should have tried harder to find me or at least have told Harry about me. Maybe, just maybe, Harry would have been better off living in America with us, instead of with his mother's awful relatives. Your intensions were good, but now you doubt yourself."

Ginny swallowed, eyes flying to Harry. Why would he live in America?

"Now, you are feeling intense anger, which you are desperately trying to keep in the forefront. You want to believe that I am lying." Adrianna leaned still closer, reaching out and pressing her fingers to the back of the professor's hand. McGonagall was frozen in shock. The Empath smiled. "You are going through all your knowledge of Empaths. You are thinking of all the girls in the Empath line. How most of them never survived infancy. How others went crazy by puberty. You are remembering how all Empaths have been described as quiet, distracted, soft-tempered girls. You're thinking that I'm obviously nothing like that.

"There is confusion and desperation. You're remembering your Grandmam, Emma McGonagall. She used to hold you in her lap when you were a small child. There's the love and sadness… you miss her. She used to tell you about Bronwyn McCabe. She was an Empath who died in 1808 at the age of 16. After mediating peace among her clans she died of sheer exhaustion. Of course, the fighting restarted soon after she died and her line was destroyed.

"Do you believe I'm an Empath now, Professor?" she asked mockingly, withdrawing her hand and sitting back.

"Scotch anyone?" Hagrid asked nervously, placing drinks in front of the two Professors.

There were long moments of tense silence. Finally, Dumbledore addressed Adrianna quietly. "The Empathy is truly remarkable." Adrianna merely shrugged and he continued, "Do you want to tell Harry or should I…"

McGonagall cut him off. "Albus, you can't possibly believe her? It's not possible." She looked at him entreatingly.

"Minerva, look at her. She's the image of Isabella."

Adrianna smiled. "You believe me too, Professor. Whether you admit it or not."

McGonagall looked like she had no intention of admitting anything. "Empaths don't read thoughts," she snapped.

The Empath eyes flared with challenge. "They don't live to twenty-eight either."

Harry cleared his throat loudly. "I believe someone was going to tell me what the bloody hell is going on here."

Ginny raised her brow at the swearing in front of the teachers. No one reprimanded him. She supposed that, above everything, was a testament to the gravity of the situation. She had the distinct impression that the answers were going to throw Harry into a place he really couldn't handle right now.

"Actually," Adrianna responded looking at Harry then Dumbledore. "Given the situation. I think it would be better to _show_ Harry. Professor Dumbledore, I'm sure you have the necessary equipment in your office. If we could trouble you…"

He nodded. "Of course." He managed to remain completely unflustered, while McGonagall was white as a ghost. Dumbledore rose, helping her to her feet. "Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, if you'd…"

Adrianna's eyes flew to Ginny. "Weasley? Your name is Weasley?" she asked incredulously.

Ginny swallowed, nodding warily.

The Empath gave another bitter laugh, closing her eyes and shaking her head. When she opened her eyes she asked, "And I suppose the other redhead is a Weasley, too."

Ginny didn't answer but she supposed her expression said enough.

"Why?" Harry asked, sharing a worried glance with Ginny.

Adrianna just shook her head. "I just knew a Weasley a long time ago." She paused and Ginny thought that they wouldn't get anymore information out of her, but then she continued with a sardonic half smile. "It seems…fate is in rare form tonight."

* * *

Thank you to RedMoonChick, kjcp, JenB, and Texasmagic. 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_, and is rated R.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Ginny stood at the front entrance of Hogwarts Castle and watched Harry walk down the hallway with Adrianna and Professor Dumbledore. They were going to show Harry _the_ secret. They had just spent over an hour dancing round the secret identity of this Adrianna woman and now they were going to reveal it…to Harry. Just to Harry. 

It was probably pretty personal and vital and bloody_ earth_ _shattering_. Which, of course, meant it was far too important to show to little Ginny Weasley, who needed to be coddled and protected and most importantly, left out. Now, more than ever, it _really_ pissed her off.

Ginny wondered why they had even let her see anything. Maybe she was so _unimportant_ that it wasn't worth the effort to make her leave. She wondered if she would have been sitting in Hagrid's cabin with Harry and his new _protector_ if Ron and Hermione weren't in the hospital wing. Probably not. She was simply back-up, second fiddle, and the one everyone went to when no one better was around.

She sighed as Harry's figure disappeared from view. For someone who had supposedly 'gotten over' her school girl crush, Ginny sure spent a lot of time staring at Harry Potter and thinking about Harry Potter and obsessing about Harry Potter.

Well, Ginny told herself, the first step in not obsessing about Harry Potter was to stop staring at the spot where he disappeared around the corner. Any time now. Just turn around.

The one problem with that was Harry _needed_ her. He was on the brink of insanity as it was, and as much as Ginny trusted Professor Dumbledore to keep him physically safe, it was clear that his emotional stability always came second to the Headmaster. Last summer was an excellent example.

Not that there was anything she could do about it now. She couldn't exactly barge into Dumbledore's office, could she? Ginny turned, mildly depressed now, and headed toward the Great Hall.

The Hall was emptying, dinner almost over. Thankfully, the platters hadn't been cleared yet. Ginny took a seat at an empty area at the Gryffindor table and filled a plate with Shepherd's pie. She hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"Hey, Ginny."

She looked up, still chewing, to see Dean Thomas straddle the bench next to her. He was smiling at her in an adorable kind of way. Ginny did her best to smile back. It was time to pretend nothing important had happened today. If one pretended convincingly enough, then eventually one convinced even oneself.

Ginny was a consummate actress. She had to be to survive six older brothers and one over protective mother. It shouldn't be too hard to pretend everything was fine. It was all about knowing her part.

For example, she had _not_ spent a good portion of the day crying in the girl's loo. She was _not_ grieving an ex-convict. She was not sick with worry over a boy who she _did not_ fancy. And she did not feel any of the following things: left-out, abandoned, awkward, unattractive, or pathetic. It was rather simple, really. She had spent the day relaxing with her brother, nothing special.

"Hey Dean," she said brightly, already in character. "Enjoy the sun today?"

"Yeah, it was great. Would have been a lot better if you had been around, though," Dean said in a shy, charming way. He looked down and back up at her through his eye lashes. "There was a definite shortage of pretty girls."

Ginny laughed out loud and flushed what was undoubtedly that horrifying famous Weasley red. She didn't believe a word of it, but it was awfully nice to hear. Especially after a day like today. She felt herself relax for the first time in days.

"I'm sure you persevered just fine," she teased. Ginny took another bite of pie, not too large. She didn't want Dean to think she wasn't lady-like. She found herself hoping he would stay and chat for a while. It was a lovely distraction.

"Oh, of course, that's my family's crest," Dean responded cheekily. "Perseverance at all costs." He put his hand over his heart dramatically.

Ginny giggled, feeling lighter. "Doesn't your family sell books?"

He looked down again, biting his full lower lip. He really was cute. She'd never noticed before. "Well, some of those books are really long. They require a lot of tenacity," Dean said with mock seriousness.

Warmth was starting to spread through Ginny's body at the intensity of his gaze. She loved how it felt to have a bloke's attention focused entirely on her. Michael had been like that when they had first started dating, before…

Her eyes unconsciously went to the Ravenclaw table where Michael and Cho's heads were bent close together, whispering. The prick. Mere hours after their confrontation and apparently they were completely over it. His little tart had forgiven him easily. Ginny felt that horrible pang of rejection. It felt all too familiar. What the hell was so great about Cho Chang anyway?

"So…" Dean started, clearing his throat. He brought her out of her reverie and Ginny put on what she hoped was a credible smile. However, the contemplative look on Dean's face proved that it was too late. He had caught the direction her thoughts had wandered. Ginny reprimanded her own carelessness. "I haven't seen you with Michael Corner much lately," Dean commented with careful lightness.

"Yeah," she said quietly, pathetically. She mentally shook herself. Ginny knew she was stronger than this. "I reckon his ego couldn't compete with the Gryffindor glory," she joked, her smile her shield.

Dean grinned back, taking the bait. "Have pity on the bloke. It must be hard having a girlfriend who is better than him in Quidditch… and everything else."

Ginny savored the compliment, and this time her smile was genuine. "I'm not so great. I was just filling in at the game. Harry's our real star seeker," she protested.

Dean laughed incredulously. "Come on, you were _brilliant_."

Ginny leaned her head on her hand, studying him. "Too brilliant I suppose." She was playfully sarcastic as she gestured her head toward Michael. This time, when she looked at him the pain was less. Flirting was a wonderful thing.

"His loss," Dean's said huskily, his voice having dropped an octave. "I'm sure there are plenty of men out there man enough to handle your brilliance."

Unbidden, an image formed in her head. Harry, battered and bruised, standing defiantly, wand raised as he faced down a hoard of Death Eaters. Great, that was exactly what Ginny needed right now.

Concentrating on Dean, she laid on the charm, "And where do I find these extraordinary men?"

His voice dropped to a conspiratory whisper and he leaned in close to her. "Well, the first step is to stop looking outside of Gryffindor."

Her stomach turned over. She was _not_ going to think about _bloody_ Harry Potter. "I'll remember that. Thanks."

"Oy! Dean, you coming?" Seamus yelled from the entrance way.

Dean glared at him from over his shoulder and called back, "Keep your knickers on, mate." He turned back to Ginny, suddenly shy again, gnawing on that full lip. "You coming back to the common room?"

"I…" Ginny started. She looked back at her food, but it had disappeared, along with the rest of the dinner platters. Dinner was over. Her stomach gurgled in protest.

"I, er, promised Ron and Hermione I'd stop off one more time before bed. Need to make sure they don't kill each other, you know." She wasn't sure why she even said that. Certainly spending time with Dean was the healthiest option right now. But Harry needed her, the ruddy prat.

Dean winced dramatically. "Don't we all know it? Well…." He got up and looked at her with somewhat less confidence. "We'll probably be up late with the whole nothing-to-do-tomorrow thing. Maybe I'll see you later, then?"

"I'd like that," Ginny responded genuinely.

He smiled hugely and ran off to join Seamus, who laughed at him and slapped him on the back.

Well then, Ginny thought. Dean Thomas. Fancy that. Seemed like a nice enough bloke. Might be just the thing to help with a speedy recovery from Michael Corner. _And_ prevent a Harry Potter relapse.

Ginny took her time getting up from the table and leaving the Great Hall. She'd have to ask Hermione about Dean. When Ron was _not_ in the room. Of course, that might be a bit difficult. Not only were they currently roommates, but recently Ron was sending her more and more of those 'I'm not letting you out of my sight' looks. He was really mental about her being cursed at the Department of Mysteries. Ginny could still see the look on his face when he had been revived and seen her there…

She shivered at the memory. It was not a look you _ever_ wanted to see on your brother's face. Well, maybe something good would come out of it. Maybe Ron would finally get a clue about how he really felt about his best friend. Ginny rolled her eyes. Knowing her brother, it wasn't bloody likely.

As for now, Ginny had to think of a way to help Harry. She was pitiful, but she was all he had right now. She left the Great Hall and headed toward the library. Just one quick stop before she headed to the hospital wing. Taking a page from Hermione's book, when all else failed, it was time for a little research.

* * *

Harry looked around Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster seemed to have repaired all the damage he had created three days ago without a problem. Somehow this made Harry angry. 

He closed his eyes in an attempt to get a grasp of his emotions, but with everything that was going on, it just wasn't possible. Frowning, Harry turned to Adrianna and Dumbledore as the Professor carried over his Pensieve.

"Let me get this straight," Harry said with a sigh, feeling tired. "You're going to show me something in there that will prove who Adrianna is."

"Exactly so," Dumbledore said lightly. If he had just a touch more cheerfulness Harry didn't think he'd be able to restrain himself from exploding. Harry crossed his arms tightly as Dumbledore used his wand to pull a thin silver strand from his head and place it into the Pensieve.

"What I don't understand," Harry gripped, "is why we aren't using one of Adrianna's memories. Doesn't that make more sense?"

He was apprehensive about this whole process. Last time he went into a Pensieve it wasn't what he would call a pleasant experience. Harry was glad that Ginny wasn't going to be subjected to it.

Adrianna shook her head. She didn't look any more enthusiastic than Harry felt. "The Pensieve doesn't work on me. It's an Empath thing, interferes with all sorts of mind reading type magic. It's all the extraneous thoughts and emotions coming from other people, causes too much interference."

The Pensieve swirled dizzily. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Are we ready, then?"

_Not really_, Harry wanted to say, but when they both looked to him, he took a deep breath and nodded. Dumbledore entered the Pensieve first, followed by Harry and Adrianna. They disappeared into the black swirling depths.

Suddenly, Harry found himself in a parlor. At first glance, it seemed to be a small London Flat. There was a wizard lying limp in the middle of the room. Over him stood an adult, but decidedly human, Voldemort. The dark figure looked up from his victim to see a younger Dumbledore in front of him. Voldemort smiled at his long-time rival and, _Crack_, he was gone.

Adrianna gasped and turned to the present day Dumbledore, horror plain on her face. "This is the memory you chose?" She demanded angrily. "This isn't the only time we met. You could have chosen a different memory."

Harry's apprehension grew to new heights at her reaction, but his eyes were pulled to the man on the floor. For a horrifying moment Harry thought it was his father. His heart froze in his chest as he walked, trancelike, to get a closer look. It wasn't who he feared it was, though the resemblance was striking. This man was older. Harry's father hadn't lived long enough to reach middle age.

Younger Dumbledore knelt over the fallen man and checked his pulse. The Professor's head drooped as he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

Harry frowned, as if it weren't obvious that the man was dead, with his frozen hazel eyes… Harry's eyes snapped to the strange woman who had entered his life so abruptly today. There was an angry set to her jaw and her fingers clawed at her upper arms. She avoided looking at the fallen man. He stared at her until she finally met his gaze.

Harry's blood turned to ice as he looked into her hazel eyes. "What is this? Who is this man?" he demanded. He was afraid of the answer.

Instead of answering, Adrianna turned her accusing gaze to Dumbledore, but this time it wasn't he that Harry wanted an answer from. His voice rose. "Who _is_ this man?"

Adrianna's eyes snapped back to his. "The dead man's my father, Harry," she bit back, her voice dripping with bile. "The day my father died is the memory the Professor chose, but since we're here you should pay attention. It's about to get even more _instructive_."

_Crack. Crack_.

Harry stumbled back as two wizards appeared in the room. This time one of them was clearly his father.

James fell to his knee beside the dead man, shaking him. "Julian! No! Julian!" His voice was full of emotion. "God no!" The resemblance was even more striking than Harry had originally thought. He was beginning to feel the first stirrings of panic. What did it all mean?

"We saw the Dark Mark," the man who had Apparated in with James said quietly.

The other Dumbledore nodded, standing up and stepping back from the body. "It was Voldemort himself. He Disapparated as soon as I arrived."

Harry looked pleadingly at Adrianna, willing her to give him a straight answer. "Who is _he_?" he whispered harshly. "Who are _you_?"

Meeting his gaze, Adrianna's mask of anger fell a way. She seemed uncertain. The scene around them continued, but Harry refused to watch. Somehow, he thought he would see something even more important in her eyes.

"Where's Adrianna? She was here." At the sound of his father's voice Harry's eyes whipped over. Oh god, what was going on here? What the hell was this?

"I haven't seen her," young Dumbledore said to James.

Harry's eyes stayed on Adrianna. She was beginning to look less and less like a stranger. "Tell me," he demanded. "How did you know my father?"

Adrianna closed her eyes tightly against Harry's request, eventually she burst out, in a surprisingly loud voice. "He's my uncle."

Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut, even though he had suspecte- known even. He closed his eyes as he took in the ramifications. The sounds around him dulled. He had family. It made no sense. How could he have magical family?

When Harry could make out voices again he heard his father screaming. "Adrianna! Adrianna!"

There was a muffled sound from the kitchen, then a stifled yell. James ran to the kitchen. Harry followed, automatically, without thinking, but just as he crossed the threshold he stopped and looked back. Adrianna hadn't moved, just stared ahead blankly. James was frantically opening up cabinet doors, calling her name.

Harry was torn, not sure where to place his concentration. A small, choked sob came from the kitchen and Harry's attention was brought fully into the kitchen.

James tried to wrench open the cabinet over the sink, but it wouldn't budge. "Frank! I need Julian's wand," he yelled out, while continuing to put all his strength into pulling at the door. "He must have put a locking charm on it."

From behind Harry, younger Dumbledore threw a spell. The cabinet door disappeared. Curled up in a ball, in a space much too small for her to fit into without the aid of magic was a girl. A girl with hazel eyes and messy black hair. A girl that was clearly the younger version of the woman that Harry had met today.

Tears rolled down her drenched cheeks. She choked out, "Uncle James," and slid down into his out stretched arms.

James held the girl tightly to him, rocking her. "Annie, Annie, it's all right. You're safe now."

"No," she whimpered. "Daddy."

The girl pulled away from him violently, causing James to loose his grip. He let her down reluctantly, but called out behind her, "Anna, don't…" She scrambled away, pushing around Dumbledore and into the parlor.

Harry tried to hurry after her, but found he couldn't get himself to move at any great speed. His legs were lead. He slowly followed James into the parlor. The young girl knelt over her father, her head buried in his chest. Quiet tears soaked the dead man's shirt.

As if in water, Harry turned and looked at his grown… cousin? How was it possible that he had family? Was there no end to the secrets kept from him? "How old were you?" he found himself asking. One of many questions he wanted to ask.

Adrianna slowly smiled, a small grim smile. "I was twelve."

Harry nodded, somewhat surprised, the little girl looked younger than that, but they were slight in their family. He looked from his own father to his dead uncle. At least Adrianna got to know her father. Then Harry looked at the weeping child and felt ashamed at the thought.

Harry turned to see the older Dumbledore watching the scene serenely and felt rage fill him. Why_ would_ he choose this memory? All this time, why hadn't he told him about Adrianna? Harry used to trust this man so implicitly, if he couldn't anymore…who was left to trust?

"He's gone," the girl sobbed, looking up at up at Harry's father. James pulled the small girl away from the body and gathered her to him. Harry watched his father cry in the girl's shoulder and swallowed strangled cry of his own.

Harry looked between the two Adriannas and turned angrily to Dumbledore. "Why…? I want to leave, _now_," he demanded through clenched teeth.

"No, Harry," his cousin said quietly, her irritated frown contradicting her words. "We've seen this much, we need to see the rest." She seemed to almost choke on the words. "He's showing us this for a reason."

Bugger the reason, was all Harry could think. He wanted to punch something, someone maybe.

The door to the flat burst open and a woman, older than James, burst through. "No! No!" she screamed. She threw herself next to the dead man, shaking him violently. "Julian. Wake. Up," She commanded.

"He's gone, Mommy."

The woman barely looked at her daughter, shaking her head. "No!" She closed her eyes. "No! Julian!" She doubled over with a stricken cry.

So, this was Harry's aunt. Was she dead, now, as well? She was a kind looking woman with short, curling brown hair. Was she out there somewhere? Were there other family members Harry didn't know of? He looked over at the older Adrianna, whose expression of blatant irritation covered a sheen of…he wasn't sure. Instinctively, Harry moved closer to her.

On the floor, the dead man's wife took a shuddering breath and sat up. She was deadly calm when she demanded, "Who did this?"

There was silence for a long moment. It was Dumbledore who finally spoke. "Voldemort."

The woman nodded, absently. "Why?" she asked through gritted teeth. There was an ever longer silence.

James stepped forward. "Kathy, we don't know---"

"No," the child Adrianna said, fully gaining her mother's attention for the first time. "I know. He wanted me." Her mother shook her head, denying it.

"Anna, no. This had nothing to do with you," James said gently, but Harry could tell he just wanted to believe it was true.

"No, it _is_ true. I heard them arguing. Voldemort was looking for me," The girl said in a strange monotone that Harry found familiar. He had heard it from himself often this last week. "He knew I was an Empath…he wanted my powers." She looked up at the younger Dumbledore. "He thought he could use me." Kathy gasped and clutched her dead husband's shirt.

"So, he killed him?" Frank said, quietly, almost to himself.

Young Adrianna shrugged. "He…Voldemort, he enjoyed it. It was fun," The girl looked down, away from the horrified looks.

Her mother wrenched herself to her feet and flew to the bedroom, slamming the door shut. James followed, finding the door locked. "Kathy, Kathy…open the door!"

"Give her a minute, James," Dumbledore said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Can we go now?" Harry asked the present-day Dumbledore, testily. He didn't want this intimate knowledge of the death of an uncle he never knew.

"Not just yet," the headmaster answered calmly, further enraging Harry.

"We need to get them to a safe house," Frank was saying to the other Dumbledore.

Young Dumbledore nodded sagely. "And a Secret Keeper…"

As they talked, the child Adrianna knelt stiffly next to her father. "What will you do with the body?" she asked softly.

James' voice quivered as he told her, "We'll bury at home, next to our father and sisters."

"Sisters?" Harry gasped, looking at his cousin.

Adrianna answered quietly, "They all died in infancy. My father used to say that they weren't strong enough to withstand the Empath…_ gift_," she said the last word with harsh bitterness. "Fate did not make them."

"When will they take him away?" the twelve-year-old asked.

"Soon, child," her Dumbledore answered.

The girl nodded in response. "He keeps pictures in his pockets," she said, almost to herself, as she reached into her father's pockets and pulled out pictures. She found her father's wand. "He never even took out his wand."

"Anna, please…" James implored her.

She ignored him, if she even heard him. Carefully, the girl placed the pictures and wand into the front pockets of her jumper. "Mommy will want his rings and his wrist watch." She carefully removed them. The older Adrianna looked down at the pure gold band on her own thumb, as her younger self removed it from her it from her father's cold hands and carefully put it in her pockets.

The bedroom door opened. "Adrianna, gather anything you need from in here. We're leaving." The girl looked at her mother with wide eyes. "We have a flight back to America in less than two hours. The driver will be here shortly." Kathy spoke quickly. She rushed around the room gathering things, avoiding looking at the body. "Everything in the bedroom is packed."

"Kathy, you can't go!" James exclaimed.

She whirled on him. "The hell I can't James. That monster just killed my husband. I'm not going to let him get my baby girl."

"We can protect her."

She laughed cruelly. "You can't protect anyone."

"Katherine," Dumbledore approached her. "We are the _only_ ones who can keep her safe now."

"No, _I_ can keep her safe… I can take her home to America and away from magic forever. We'll fade into obscurity," she yelled. "No magic, no danger!"

Young Dumbledore got visibly apprehensive, "You can't take that girl away from magic, Katherine. She _is_ magic. It's in her and it's powerful."

"She isn't _magic_." Katherine bit out with disdain. "She's a little girl. She's my little girl and from now on," she stated, placing cold hard emphasis on each word, "she's just a Muggle girl."

"You can't make her into a Muggle," James was screaming now, as well. "She belongs with us. She belongs with her family."

"She has family. Regular people family, in America."

"Katherine, please, you can't keep her from magic," Dumbledore reasoned.

"We won't let you!" James roared.

"You don't have a choice."

"She'll die without magic!"

"Ha! Because your world is so safe!"

"Stop!" the girl's yell cut through the argument. "I'll go, Mom. We'll go now." She nodded resolutely, as if she had known this was going to happen all along. Her eyes were dry.

A horn sounded. "That's our driver," Kathy said calmly as she wiped the tears from her face.

"I'll go with you to the airport, for protection," Frank offered, already moving into the bedroom to retrieve their bags. Kathy looked like she was going to argue, but then nodded. She grabbed the rest of her bags and headed for the door.

"Kathy, please," James implored. "Please, don't do this."

His sister-in-law ignored him. She knelt next to her dead husband and kissed his cold lips. "Goodbye, my love." She stood. "Goodbye, James. Adrianna, it's time to go." The child nodded, but lingered as her mother and Frank disappeared out the door.

"Anna," James whispered.

The little girl threw herself at him and hugged him tightly. Again, she began to weep. "I have this awful feeling I'm not going to see you again," she told her uncle. The words cut Harry deeply. He had to close his eyes for a moment. When was this going to end?

"Then don't go," James implored. "We can convince your mother, once she calms down. You belong at Hogwarts. It's the safest place I know."

The girl shook her head. "This isn't my home." She pulled away "I love you, Uncle. Tell Aunt Lily and Grandmother, and the baby when he comes." The child backed up toward the door. "Bye, Daddy, bye, Professor."

"Adrianna, I will write to your mother. We _will_ have you back," Dumbledore answered her.

She shook her head, her lip trembled. "Promise me you'll take good care of my family, Uncle James and Aunt Lily and the baby. Promise."

"Of course, child. We'll take care of you, as well."

"Bye," she said softly, one last time, and ran from the room.

James stared at the empty doorway. When he turned he had a look of rage on his face, a look Harry often saw in the mirror. He picked up a vase and hurled it across the room

"We leave now," Adrianna stated. Harry barely noticed the swirling and pulling. Then, he was back in Dumbledore's office.

* * *

It was really frustrating playing chess with Ron. Hermione contemplated her best friend as she stared intently at the chess board that was hovering just over her out-stretched legs. It wasn't that he almost always won. She enjoyed the challenge, the way playing with him made her think. 

It was amazing, his superb strategy and clever planning, but it always served to make one question abundantly plain. If he had such a brilliant mind, why didn't he use it? And more importantly, the question that might explain it all. Why didn't he know it?

Hermione called out what she thought was a particularly well planned chess move, one that she had been contemplating for a full ten minutes. Ron quickly countered it with an ingenious move of his own. She shook her head. It was truly incredible.

If only he'd just apply himself. He could get good marks. He could do _so_ many things. Why was it he would rather just slide through life, copying her homework? What did he spend his time on? Quidditch and exploding snap. Joking around with his dorm mates. Tormenting her and Ginny. Helping save the world. Well, sometimes he applied himself.

Hermione tried to hide the way the thought made her cheeks warm with pride. Then Ron shifted on the bed and any hope of hiding her flush was gone. In fact, she completely lost her train of thought.

Ron was lying on her bed in the opposite direction as herself, with his feet by her hip and his tall, lanky body curled up by her feet. His chin casually rested on his hand. His legs were lightly touching hers, carelessly. No big deal. Just a little casual contact among best mates.

Only it had never happened before. Not with Ron. With Harry, Hermione had shared plenty of careless, comfortable touches. Touches that meant nothing. Nothing more than genuine _friendly_ affection, that was. It never felt like she was being burned, it never made her heart race, or her stomach flip.

Like it just did when Ron shifted his leg. _That_ felt an awful lot like a caress and not at all entirely friendly. Of course, Ron didn't mean it as anything more. It was _clearly_ an accident.

Only Ron never touched her, not on accident, not ever. And if it did happen, he usually avoided her for weeks afterward. Made a girl feel down right repulsive, really. Unless, of course, he was just scared off by those same strange sensations she was feeling. At least that's what the hopeful part of her brain said. The masochistic part said he just didn't like to touch her. Neither part was Hermione's most logical.

Hermione remembered Ron's first Quidditch match. What had possessed her that day and made her kiss him on the cheek, she'd never know. She was lucky he talked to her at all after that. Though it seemed that Ron barely noticed in all the excitement. He probably forgot all about it.

Regardless, he was touching her now. Casually, yes, but deliberately. Ron certainly _knew_ it was happening. What did it mean? Was it some giant shift in there relationship? Had everything changed? Was it a good thing? Was she over reacting?

_Clearly_ she was over reacting, but even so, it definitely represented a change of some sort. That wonderful way he had held her earlier today…_that_ was new. That didn't mean that it meant what she wanted it to mean. It was most likely just that their almost dying had finally jerked Ron out of his little boy fear of girls. Maybe her relationship with him would become more like the one she had with Harry.

The thought made Hermione ill.

"Are you all right?"

Ron's voice drew her eyes upward and she focused on his concerned blue eyes. How could he have no idea the effect he had on her? It took her a minute to process his question, but finally she nodded, feeling like an idiot. Why was it, when she needed it most, her intellect failed her?

Ron frowned at her, clearly disbelieving her hesitant nod. Hermione quickly pretended to be focused on the chess game and called out the safest move she could find. It didn't further her chance of winning, but it met her immediate goal of distracting Ron from his scrutiny.

Once again, he was entirely focused on the game, and as usual he was entirely daft when it came to her. _That_ brought Hermione back to her original point. How could this boy, man, whatever, with his thus far undisclosed beautiful mind, who was soundly trouncing the best student at Hogwarts, _not_ know that his best friend was hopelessly enamored with him?

Hermione would not say love. Not yet. Not when fifty percent of the time she was sure she didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with him. And the other fifty percent of the time…well, maybe a snowball's chance in Calcutta.

She snuck a glance at him. He caught her eye and smiled. It was moments like this… and moments like last night, that kept her from giving up on him and trying to move on with her life.

"Hermione, are you even paying attention?" Ron asked softly, playfully.

"Of course, I am," she said indignantly. Bristling, she called out a hasty move… a fatal move.

"Oh really?" Ron took her queen. "Checkmate."

She dropped her head. It was entirely his fault anyway. His bright blue eyes were too much of a distraction. It was probably all part of his brilliant stratagem. Know your opponent's weak spot and take no prisoners. She looked up to see him pout at her. It was too cruel. He'd already won. She didn't need any more distractions.

"It's no fun if you don't even try," he grumbled.

"I was trying," Hermione protested. She was. Mostly.

Ron rolled his eyes and sat up to clear the board. This brought his hip firmly up against her knee. He was getting entirety _too_ casual about this touching thing. "Do you want to play again?" she managed to ask.

"Are you going to concentrate this time?" Ron teased.

Sure, if he'd stop touching her and looking at her and talking to her… Hermione swallowed. "Do you have any other ideas of how to keep ourselves busy?"

"Good point," he replied with frown. Ron began setting up the chess pieces again.

Hermione bit her lip, considering. "We could always start that list I was talking about. The one about Harry…" Ron's head jerked up and he shot her a glance made her stop. "Why not?" She didn't like the whine in her voice, but it made his features soften.

"Because we're recovering. We need to relax," Ron said with an indulgent smile.

Relax. Ha. Was that what they were doing? Hermione let the subject drop and tried to concentrate more on the game this time. Ron really needed to stop moving his leg. She was beginning to think he really was doing in on purpose.

"Kinda strange that Harry hasn't come by again," Ron said softly.

Hermione's head jerked up. Ron was making a good show of staring at the chess board, but there was hurt in his voice, and the lines around his eyes showed that he was worried. She shouldn't have brought up Harry. "I'm sure he just lost track of time," she said as casually as she could manage.

Ron nodded thoughtfully, calling out a move to his bishop and watching it march obediently. "You don't think he's out there having fun without us?" he asked with forced humor.

Hermione almost laughed. "Harry?" she asked incredulously. She moved a pawn.

Ron chuckled, though without much mirth. "Good point." He moved his knight and asked, "Do you think Ginny checked up on Harry like you asked?"

Hermione frowned, watching Ron carefully. He was never as unaffected as he seemed. She shook her head. "I'm not sure."

"I did…" Ginny called from the entrance. "But _not_ because she asked me to." She lumbered over carrying five large, dusty texts. Ron quickly moved the chess board out of the way and Hermione bent her legs to make space.

"What's all this?" Ron asked.

Ginny dropped the heavy texts, frowning down at them. "Everything I could find, which isn't much."

Hermione read the titles as they were dropped on the bed in front of her.

_Rare Gifts. Magical Extinctions: Who's Next? A History of the Empath. The Myth and the Reality of the Empath. Empathy: A Power Beyond Reach_

Ron looked completely appalled. Hermione looked up in confusion, Ginny sighed as she sat down on Ron's bed.

"So, Harry and I were out for a walk…"

* * *

Thank you to RedMoonChick, kjcp, JenB, and Texasmagic. 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_, and is rated R.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Four**

* * *

Harry arrived in Dumbledore's office and attempted to regain his balance from their whirling departure from the Pensieve. But the balance he sought was nowhere to be found. He felt out of control. Even the organizing presence of rage had slipped away from him during his split-second journey back to the office. He wanted that anger back. 

The majestic walls of the office, once so comforting, closed in on him. This room had felt like the home of wisdom itself, a sanctuary, but now Harry knew there was no such thing. He felt suffocated. God, he hated this room.

Harry found himself meeting his cousin's eyes. His cousin. Bloody hell. All the air left his lungs. Looking at her now, the familial resemblance seemed so strong that it seemed unreal. As if someone had purposely designed a person to look like him. Yet, somehow, Harry had completely missed it earlier this evening.

Adrianna met his gaze evenly. She had a calm, resolute expression, as if she was waiting for Harry to rage at her and was preparing herself. She was expecting questions, demands, but she wasn't the one Harry was angry at. The questions he had were not for her.

Seeming to sense this, her eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened with worry. Harry turned toward Dumbledore, his teacher, his mentor, his protector. The man who had failed him on every count.

"Harry." He heard Adrianna whispered warning behind him. Harry ignored it. He took in Dumbledore's ever serene demeanor. His fingers were casually laced together. A relaxed expression was on his face… There it was. Harry found the rage he was looking for.

Anger filled him such that he could barely see. Everything looked red. His own heartbeat thundered in his ears. Why…? He meant to say it out loud, but it never came out.

Dumbledore. He was the only person in Harry's life that he had ever trusted completely, to keep him safe, to do the right thing, to lead Harry through the horror that was his life. He was the _only_ one that Harry didn't have to worry about protecting. Dumbledore protected _him_. Harry. Or he used to.

Harry would have stood by him until the end. He had defended him in the heart of battle…and now, now his mentor had betrayed him. Dumbledore lied to him. Worse than lied, kept his life from him, past and future, legacy and prophecy.

"Why?" Harry asked when he finally found his voice. "Why would you do this? Why wouldn't you tell me?" Unlike his last visit to this office, Harry didn't yell. He couldn't. If he yelled he would loose any control he had left over himself.

"Harry," Adrianna warned again, this time he felt her hand close around his upper arm. He froze at the contact. It was their first. As far as he knew, she was his only magical relative and this is the first time there had been physical contact. Someone had stolen a lifetime of that from him.

The thought sparked another wave of fury and Adrianna took a hissing breath behind him, as if she had felt it. Harry reckoned she had. "Step back, Harry," she told him forcefully, her voice close to his ear. He felt the gentle pressure of her hand pulling him back.

Harry realized that his whole body was tense, his muscles coiled, his hands fisted. He was ready to strike. And he was in arms length of his old mentor. Dumbledore appeared completely unaffected.

Harry growled, deep in his throat. "I want answers."

"And you'll get them," Adrianna said with focused calm. "But first you need to take a _step_ _back_."

Harry's jaw clenched. Reluctantly, he took two steps back. Adrianna's arm relaxed, but her hand stayed on him, comforting and invasive at the same time. Always a reminder to keep himself restrained.

"So tell me!" Harry demanded with more disrespect than he had ever exhibited, even at his most arrogant. He felt guilty and satisfied at the same time. He'd thought he could forgive Dumbledore for the prophecy, for the Department of Mysteries…but this was one thing too many.

Dumbledore's eyes moved carefully between Harry and his cousin, watchfully taking in their interactions. "Yes, it appears that once again I owe you an explanation…and an apology, to both you and Miss Potter."

He paused at a soft, mirthless laugh from Adrianna. "No one calls me Miss Potter. No one has ever called me that."

Dumbledore gave a small smile and nodded slightly. "Adrianna then, perhaps I might offer you and your young cousin a seat." He waved his arm toward his large chairs.

Harry could feel her eyes on him. He clenched his teeth tighter and shook his head. "Standing it is," Adrianna replied lightly.

The headmaster cocked his head in acceptance. "If you'll forgive an old man…" He rounded the desk and settled himself in his large throne-like chair. Looking up at them Dumbledore's expression was filled with sadness and regret. Harry was beyond caring.

The professor continued, "It does seem that my mistakes are accumulating this week. I know how hard it is for you to understand, Harry…" The angry teenager scoffed and turned his head away, rejecting the attempt at compassion. "You must know that every decision made was in what we believed to be your best interest."

Harry laughed outright. "How could not telling me about my family be in my _best_ interest?"

"Harry," Dumbledore explained gently. "This was family that had rejected magic and disappeared across the Atlantic. A Muggle Aunt by marriage and a child who had her own difficult to control powers. By the time you came to Hogwarts we hadn't heard from them in over eleven years. There was a good chance your cousin was dead and now… Harry, I don't think you could comprehend how incredible Adrianna's survival is. No known Empath has _ever_ lived to the age of twenty-eight. For her to be here, so healthy. It's truly fantastic."

Dumbledore's expression held a bit of awe. Harry turned and looked at his cousin. She looked like any other witch her age, nothing out of the ordinary. Adrianna merely shrugged at the professor's words, "Yeah, it's thrilling. Really."

Harry almost smiled, almost. Instead, he crossed his arms tightly across his chest, allowing Adrianna's hand to fall away. "So you made assumptions," he challenged. "Did you even try and find her? Try and see if she was _actually_ dead?" Was it ignorance or laziness?

Dumbledore looked dejected. "Harry, I personally sent hundreds of owls to America, the first year alone. She had disappeared."

He broke off at Adrianna's laugh. "Yes, I had disappeared into one of three American magic schools." Harry watched Dumbledore's reaction to the words. As always it was subtle. His wrinkled eyes narrowed, a look of contemplation on his face.

When he didn't comment Adrianna spoke again. "I remember _one_ letter my mother showed me. It was almost two years after…. When I was thirteen. It said _all_ my father's family was dead and that you wanted to speak with me."

"You didn't contact us?" Dumbledore asked simply.

"Why would I? My family was dead. I had no further ties with Britain." Her face hardened. "But my _whole_ family wasn't dead."

Dumbledore smiled a grim smile. "One of the many things I had planned on discussing if you had made contact."

Adrianna again gave a mirthless laugh, turning away and shaking her head. Harry felt his anger and disgust rising again. All the decisions that had so profoundly affected his life, each one flashed before his eyes, overwhelming him. All the things kept from him, his godfather, the prophecy, his connection with Voldemort, and dozens more over the years.

At one time Harry had thought Dumbledore infallible. Now that seemed laughable. The old wizard had once promised Adrianna that he would protect Harry and his family. He had failed utterly. The urge to throw something was coming back.

Harry felt a hand on his arm again. "Harry, let's go," Adrianna told him firmly. Harry resisted the pull, looking at her in question. Her expression expressed urgency. Was it because of what _he_ was feeling? "We need to get out of this office. Now."

Harry almost told her that it was ok. He had torn this office up before, but he let her pull him to the door. He really really hated this office.

"Miss Potter…Adrianna," Dumbledore called and she turned back to him with a long suffering look. He handed her a shinny golden object. "You are welcome to stay with us as long as you need."

She took the key-like object, muttering, almost sarcastically, "Thanks." The door opened and Harry stumbled down the stairs, desperate to be free of the oppressive room.

In the hall, he fell against the opposite wall in his haste to descend the stairs. Fury welled up in him. All the secrets and lies haunted Harry. He let out a growl of frustration and slammed his hand into the hard stone wall. It felt good so he balled up his fist and pounded it into the stone with all his might. He only got in three good punches before exhaustion overwhelmed him and he slid to his knees. Harry collapsed against the wall, his back to the stone, and buried his head in his knees.

"Hey," Adrianna called softly. Harry opened his eyes to see his cousin crouched in front of him. "Let me see that." She reached over and took his bleeding hand without waiting for permission. "It's not broken, that's good. You hit that wall pretty damn hard." She smiled what seemed to be a genuine smile. "I can probably heal this. Do you want me to?"

Harry considered her question. No one had ever given him the choice before. Was there a choice?

She smiled sympathetically. "Sometimes physical pain feels good. Takes your mind off the other kinds of pain. Sometimes it feels good to see yourself bruised on the outside, when you feel bruised on the inside. So, if you want to keep it, it's up to you."

Harry cradled his injured hand. After a minute he said, "I think I'll keep it."

"I thought you might." There was quiet for a minute. "I'm sorry we didn't look for you, my mother and I."

Harry searched Adrianna's face. "How old were you?" he asked though he knew the answer.

"Thirteen."

Harry laughed. What could she have done? She was a child. As powerless as he, himself, was now.

"In Dumbledore's defense," Adrianna said quietly. "A thirteen year old Empath, in school, and a Muggle woman, in America, probably weren't the best choice to keep you safe."

Harry smiled bitterly. "Yes, but would I have had to sleep in a cupboard?"

"You slept in a cupboard?" her voice expressed outrage, making Harry feel a tad better. She shook her head. "At least you're alive. That's something Dumbledore is responsible for," Adrianna said lightly as she moved to sit next to him against the wall.

Harry scoffed. Yeah, something. "He promised to keep _all_ of us safe."

"Yeah," she sighed. "But, it wasn't a promise he could keep. No one can be sure they can protect anyone. All they can do is try." Adrianna took a deep breath. "He tried his best. To tell you the truth, I think all of this is out of our hands, _all_ of our hands. Too many things had to align just right for us to not know about each others existence. I think fate had it planned this way," she said with a far away expression.

Harry sneered in disgust. "To hell with fate!"

Adrianna laughed genuinely. It was a soft feminine sound. "My sentiments exactly, but unfortunately I've learned not to mess with it. Fate, destiny, it's a hell of a lot more powerful than we could ever be."

"That's why you're here," Harry stated in a monotone. She didn't want to be here. She just felt she had to be.

Adrianna sighed again. "It's true that there are certain…inconveniences about being _summoned_ to Britain. But you aren't one of them. I'd have come for you anyway, if I'd known about you."

Harry considered he words carefully. Did he believe her? Could he afford to? Was it worth trusting anyone ever again, especially an adult?

"Well, I'm not going anywhere so you don't have to decide now…"

Harry started at her words. The mind reading thing would take a lot of getting used to.

"…but at the moment I'm starving, so…" Adrianna trailed off with a smile.

Against his better judgment, Harry found himself saying, "I have a friend in the kitchen…"

* * *

When Ginny finally hurried back to Gryffindor Tower, it was well after midnight. She had wanted to be back before Harry, so she could _causally_ catch him on his way back through the portrait hole. That way she could nonchalantly and inconspicuously…bombard him with questions. 

For example, who the hell was this Adrianna and what bloody well happened in Dumbledore's office? That and Ginny needed to make sure Harry's tenuous hold on sanity was still intact. Her worry over him was almost overwhelming. She couldn't get him out of her head.

The warring factions inside Ginny gave her a pounding headache. One part warned her, 'Leave Harry alone. He doesn't want you in his life. He doesn't need your interfering. Have you no pride?' While the other screamed, 'It doesn't matter. He _needs_ you, whether he knows it or not.'

Ginny's current exhaustion and anxiety were completely overriding her self preservation. So to hell with pride, she'd lick her wounds after this whole situation was resolved.

She gave the password to The Fat Lady and climbed through the portrait hole. The common room was empty, which she found somewhat surprising as they had no classes tomorrow. She looked around, trying to decide what to do.

God only knew what had happened in Dumbledore's office. Did Harry learn some new information that sent him into a rage, or an even deeper depression? They didn't know that this Adrianna wouldn't hurt Harry. For all they knew she could be working for Voldemort. All Ginny knew, as she paced the common room floor, was that she really _had _to see Harry.

Well, chances were that he was already in his dorm room. It was really late. Ginny was just going to have to go up there and get him.

She stared at the staircase to the boys' dormitory and bit her lip. He'd probably be in bed. Ginny wouldn't want to alert his dorm mates to her presence. She'd probably have to climb onto his bed, since it was so tall. Her pulse rate quickened.

The sacrifices one makes. Ginny suppressed a hysterical giggle.

But what if they weren't asleep? It was highly likely that at least some of the fifth year boys were awake. Dean had said that they hadn't planned on going to bed any time soon. Ginny couldn't very well tell them that she was sneaking into the dorm in the middle of the night to see Harry.

Ginny considered just going to bed, and then the events of the day flashed through her mind. She was never going to be able to sleep without talking to Harry first. She took a deep breath and started to climb the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

She'd just tell them that she needed something for Ron. It was a slim excuse at one a.m., but she'd improvise. Ginny was a excellent liar.

Passing the younger dormitories, Ginny heard rambunctious laughter and chatter coming from the fourth years. She dashed past her classmates' semi-open door and up to the fifth year landing. It seemed pretty quiet. She stuck her head in the door and cautiously looked around. All was still, but the velvet drapes hid the contents of most of the beds.

Ginny crept into the room, as she did, she began to panic. God damn it. She didn't even know which bed was Harry's. She briefly considered leaving… Randomly, she chose a bed and steeled herself. She lifted the heavy drapery. Her heart beat, roughly.

"Looking for someone?"

Ginny jumped and spun. She found herself face to face, literally, with Dean Thomas. "Bloody Hell, Dean! Are you trying give me a heart attack?"

He was smiling roguishly at her. Ginny felt a tentative hand come to rest on her hip. She was considering just what to do about it, when his other hand came to rest on her other hip. After a moment his grip became more confident.

She swallowed, uncharacteristically flustered. Her hands fluttered. She wasn't sure what to do with them. Somehow, they wound up on his chest. Ginny told herself that it was so she could push him away if she had to.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked softly, intimately.

"Um… I was getting something for Ron." But Ginny didn't sound certain about it. Her voice broke. Shite, what was wrong with her?

Dean chuckled huskily. Ginny was acutely aware of being caught between a pajama clad male and a bed. She'd never been between a boy and a bed before.

"This isn't Ron's bed," he said in a whisper. "That is." He gestured with his head to a bed on the other side of the room. The only one with open curtains.

"Oh. Whose bed is this?" Ginny was scared to find out.

Dean's hands tightened on her hips. "Mine."

"Oh." Bloody hell. "Well, I didn't know that, did I?" She fought to keep her voice even.

Dean was leaning closer to her and the look in his eyes made her feel… wanted… attractive… sexy. Sexy, this whole situation was overwhelmingly sexy. Ginny really needed to push away. She was in _so_ much trouble.

Then his lips were on hers. Ginny really shouldn't have been surprised, but she was. His lips were soft and warm, slightly open, and felt…really, really nice. Her eyelids had not had a chance to close when he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

Ginny didn't know if it was the deliciously scandalous situation or the look of want in his eyes, but she was feeling giddy. So, when he leaned into her again, she met him half-way. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she let her lips slide softly over Dean's in a practiced manner, slow and sensuous.

It hadn't gone on very long when Ginny heard a crash in the hall. She jerked away abruptly as she heard Neville swear from the behind the door. Oh thank god! It's not Harry. Shite, she did _not_ just think that!

Ginny's widened eyes met Dean's. Ginny finally unfroze and pushed him away. She scrambled for the door as Neville entered.

"Hey, Ginny…wha…?" asked the limping boy.

Ginny ignored him, but paused at the door to look back at Dean. He was staring after her. She shot him a quick smile and ran out the door and down the spiraling staircase.

Oh shite. Oh shite. What did she just do? And why the hell did she feel so guilty about it? She could kiss whomever she bloody wanted to. Shite. She had just kissed Dean Thomas. And it was…. fun.

"Ginny?"

She looked up to see that she was about to crash head first into Harry Potter. Oh Hell. She was a dirty slag.

Harry had a small, inquisitive smile. "What are you doing on the stairs to the boys' dormitory?"

Ginny felt panic bubble up inside her. He knew. He could tell by the look on her face.

"Looking for you," she whispered honestly, suddenly remembering why she was there in the first place. She grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him down the stairs and into the common room. She deliberately pushed the events of the last half hour from her mind. Ginny had more important things to deal with than kissing

She pulled Harry over to the sofa in front of the fire and they both sat. Taking in his worn and tired appearance, Ginny whispered in a rush, "What happened? Are you all right? Blimey, it's one thirty in the morning, Harry."

Harry sank into the sofa and leaned his head back, eyes fixing on the ceiling. "I, er... I'm fine I suppose…"

"Where have you been?" she asked, anxiously. Too anxiously for her tastes.

"With… with my cousin."

"Your cousin…? Adrianna?" Ginny repeated, feeling stupid. Her heart clenched in her chest, but even as she questioned it, the pieces began to fall into place. The color of Adrianna's hair, the shape of her jaw, all so familiar. _That_ was why Ginny had to struggle to keep her guard up. Adrianna reminded her of Harry. Ginny never had much of a defense against Harry.

"Yeah, weird isn't it?" Harry said absently, not looking at her.

Yeah, weird. Ginny found herself asking, "Are you sure?"

Harry laughed, a short bitter laugh. It felt like ice in Ginny's veins. "How can anyone be sure of anything anymore?" He rolled his head against the back of the sofa and looked at Ginny with a piercing green gaze. He smiled a mirthless smile. "I'm as sure as I am of anything. Dumbledore was definitely convinced, not that that means anything. He's been wrong enough lately."

Ginny listened to Harry's bitter words with a combination of dread and confusion. It was like he had lost all hope. "Harry, I don't understand."

He looked her over for a minute, then shrugged and looked back to the ceiling. Biting back her frustration Ginny carefully asked, "What happened in Dumbledore's office?" She held her breath, wondering if he would reply.

There were long endless moments where Harry acted as though he hadn't heard her. Embarrassment at having made herself vulnerable to Harry warred with increasing concern.

When finally he spoke, it was softly, hesitatingly and he never looked away from the ceiling. "Um…Dumbledore showed us the memory of…his memory, in his Pensieve, of the day Adrianna's father, my uncle, was killed." Ginny covered her mouth to cover a gasp, unwilling to break Harry's train of thought and jerk him away from his story. "It was Voldemort, of course. My father was there…."

Harry trailed off and Ginny thought maybe she should respond, or prompt him or something. "Wow." That was all she could manage, pathetic really. He always did turn her into a blithering idiot.

He swallowed. "Yeah…It was… you should have seen… I mean, Adrianna was twelve years old and locked in a cupboard. All the while, she heard her father being killed, _felt_ it. There is no way that it wasn't Adrianna. It just was."

"Oh," Ginny said. Again very articulate. That kiss must have addled her brain. Don't think about the kiss, damn it.

"Um...hmmm…"

She let out a deep breath, mind working furiously. "So…why is she here? Why now?"

Harry picked up his head, looking at her, confused. He shook his head. "Just what she said before, vision, protection, bloody fate."

Ginny almost giggled. She had never heard Harry swear quite that harshly before. She forced herself to stay serious. "So you…er, believe her?"

He resumed staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, I believe her."

Ginny watched him cautiously. Though she hadn't seen the Pensieve, she certainly wasn't willing to trust the woman that easily and given his state of mind, she certainly didn't think Harry was capable of making a proper judgment.

"So, um…" she considered her next words carefully. "What else happened?"

Harry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "After the Pensieve?"

Ginny shrugged. Really, she was looking for any information at all.

He gave a half smile. "Well, Adrianna had to pull me out of Dumbledore's office to keep me from striking him---"

"Harry!" Ginny gasped, shocked. "What…why?"

There was another bitter laugh. "Dunno. Maybe because Dumbledore lied to me about the prophecy, about the Department of Mysteries, made me learn Occlumency from a man who could never teach _me_ anything. Then kept my family from me. Yeah, I reckon that's it. Oh, and in his Pensieve memory he promised Adrianna he'd keep my parents safe. He did a right good job of it, didn't he now?"

"Harry…No…" Ginny sputtered, completely horrified. "Dumbledore, he…he just wants to keep you safe." She said the only comforting things she could think of. "He did his best." Even as she said this it seemed odd. If Dumbledore's best wasn't good enough, than whose was?

"Yeah, well..." Harry leaned back and rubbed his eyes. "That's what Adrianna said…" he drifted off, yawning. "I've got to get some sleep." He began to get up, then stopped and looked at her. The intensity of it made her cheeks warm. "Ginny..." His voice was hesitant. "Thanks for, you know, everything today."

Ginny swallowed. Somehow she managed to say, "You're welcome."

He nodded and hesitatingly walked to the stairs. Ginny stared after him, wanting to call him back, too many questions still unanswered. Then, as if he knew her mind he did turn. "Tomorrow morning," Harry said haltingly. "After breakfast, I'm bringing Adrianna to meet with Hermione and Ron. I'd like it if… Do you want to come?"

"Sure," Ginny said quickly, too quickly. She had no pride left.

Harry nodded then looked at the ground. He seemed to have more to say. Ginny waited anxiously for him to speak. When he did, it was so soft she could barely make it out. "Do you think you could…? I don't want to put you out…"

Ginny almost laughed out loud at that. Put her out. Ha!

"But I was wondering if you'd meet me before. So we could go over everything…you know how Hermione can be. She's going to be awfully suspicious…'

Hermione? Shite. Should Ginny confess that she went to Hermione and told her everything she knew. Crap, he was going to hate her.

"I could really use an ally," he finished, looking up at her shyly, biting the inside of his cheek.

All Ginny could do was nod, terrified and honored. Harry smiled, seeming relieved. He nodded, quickly turned, and ascended the stairs.

All Ginny could do was watch. Watch him disappear up the stairs to go to the room he shared with Dean Thomas. The boy who Ginny had been snogging barely an hour before. Right before Harry Potter asked her to be his ally against his best friends and share his deepest secrets.

Bloody hell! Ginny threw herself back on the sofa and covered her eyes with her arm. When did life get so damn complicated?

* * *

For the fourth night in a row, Ron awoke gasping. The horrifying images lingered as the hospital wing came into view. He ran a hand over his eyes attempting to clear them. 

"Ron, are you all right?" a famine voice called from next to him called. She sounded awfully alert.

Relief filled him at the sound of Hermione's voice, helping him banish the image of her limp corpse from his mind. He blinked rapidly to clear his mind, as he struggled control his breathing. Ron's eyes were drawn to her bed. They narrowed. "Hermione, what are you doing?"

She was guiltily hiding what was obviously a book under the covers. A lit wand was held behind her back. "Nothing. Are you ok? I mean, what are _you_ doing?" she stammered, uncharacteristically flustered.

"I was having a nightmare, as usual." Ron attempted a frown to hide his amusement. Climbing out of bed, he was next to her in a second, flipping back her covers. "And you…. are doing research." He glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. "At four in the morning."

Ron ran his hand over his face. What was he going to do with her? Three days after being hexed into a coma and she was staying up all night studying. Even with all their exams over, Hermione couldn't put down the bloody books. The girl was going to work herself to death. The thought genuinely scared him.

He sat next to her, taking in her shamefaced expression. Hermione's eyes were fixed on her hands as they played with her bed sheets. She had such delicate looking hands, they were stained with ink.

Ron shook his head. He cleared his throat Keep on task. "Hermione, you promised."

She looked up at him with a pout. "I couldn't sleep." Hermione rarely pouted. That would entail some sort of acceptance of being wrong, which Hermione never did. Now, Ron had to look away to keep from being unduly swayed by that manipulative lip. It was a very effective weapon. He wondered if she realized that.

Ron reached over to her bedside table and picked up a full vial of draught. "Then you should have taken your potion."

Hermione's jaw set. The look in her eyes changed from shame to challenge. She crossed her arms. "All right, then. You first."

Their eyes held for many moments in a silent battle of wills. Finally, Ron let the hand that was holding the Dreamless Sleep Draught drop. He didn't know why he ever thought he was going to win with her. Besides, he wasn't going to let himself become dependant on the potion, why would Hermione?

Flashes of his dream assailed him again. Ron brought his eyes back to her stubborn and wonderfully alive face. "You're tired, Hermione. I can tell."

She sighed. "I tried to sleep, but then I kept thinking of Harry and this woman. Then it occurred to me that everything we've been reading only goes back to the turn of the sixteen century. Look." She started flipping through pages. "It only goes back as far as 1520. Then it just stops. There is something important about this date. So I….."

Ron shook his head firmly, gently pulling the book from her hands. "You need to put this away and get some sleep. It can wait."

"No, Ron, wait," she insisted softly, stilling his hands by firmly laying hers over his.

Ron was paralyzed. He stared down at Hermione's hand as if it were something foreign. He seemed to have stopped breathing. Maybe this is why he had avoided touching her for so long. She had some magic where she could completely control him with the simplest of touches.

He wanted to protest and pull the book away, instead Ron whispered, "What?" His eyes remained glued to their hands. They had somehow become entwined. Had he done that? There was something strange about this room that made him act on the oddest impulses. It did feel wonderful to feel her warmth after the frigid cold of the nightmare.

"I need to show you something," Hermione whispered back. He had no idea why they were whispering. Professor Umbridge had been transferred to St. Mungos. They were the only ones in the room. Ron tried to tare his eyes away from their hands, but only got as far as her neck. He watched in fascination as Hermione swallowed anxiously. Why was _she_ anxious?

She flipped through the pages with her free hand, her non-dominant hand. It was awkward but she didn't remove her hand from his. "When I couldn't find out what happened before 1520, I got really frustrated and when I get frustrated in studying sometimes I try studying something else…So, anyway I decided to take a break and look up this other thing--"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted with a smile, giving her a look that told her that she was rambling. Hermione really was mental. Though, for once, he found it more endearing than irritating.

"Right," she breathed in a hushed tone and bit her lip. "So, I decided to look for this woman's family. The books are too old for her to be in…anyway, I couldn't find any Empath families in America, but again the book is rather old, so I decided to look and see if I could find an Empath line in England. There was only one." She opened to a page with 'Brookfield' written in fancy calligraphy.

Ron narrowed his eyes, he needed to stop this nonsense and get her back to bed… her bed…sleep that is. "Hermione, interesting as this is…"

She fixed him with a pleading glance. "One more minute, I'm going somewhere important with this." Ron sighed but let her continue. "In the mid 1500s Nicoli Molikov, patriarch of a line of Russian Empaths married his eldest daughter, an Empath, at the age of twelve, to James Brookfield in 1545." Ron groaned, earning a glare. "Fine…" Hermione flipped to the end of the chapter, pointing to the last paragraph.

"In 1780, Elizabeth Brookfield, a sixteen year old Empath and the last of the Brookfields, married Henry _Potter_," Hermione said triumphantly as Ron sat up straighter, suddenly taking interest. "A year later, she had one son, Alexander _Potter_. She then promptly went crazy and 'fell' off a cliff. And then that's all that's written, this book was published in 1801."

Ron squinted his eyes in the darkness, trying to read what she was talking about. There it was there… 'Potter.' His mind was tripping over itself in attempt to catch up with her, his heart rate accelerating. "So, you think Harry and the woman Ginny met are…"

"Related, yeah I do, or that she is going to claim that they are related. Judging from how Ginny described Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall's reactions…and didn't she say that the woman had black hair and that she seemed oddly familiar?"

Ron shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all. He let out a soft chuckle. "It almost seems too clichéd to be real, Hermione. I mean the long lost relative appears at his darkest moment to save Harry from himself."

Hermione didn't seem to see the humor in the situation, she frowned. "Or to destroy him. Ron, this is serious, we don't know if this woman has Harry's best interests at heart."

"We don't know that she doesn't either," he said gently, not wanting to start a fight.

Hermione met his eyes for the first time since their hands had…had touched. "Ron, she could be working for Voldemort."

He took a deep breath. "She could. She could also be here to help."

Hermione sighed and looked away. "Regardless, if this book is correct and these Potters are the same Potters, then there are other implications---"

"Sure, if Harry had family then---"

"No, it would mean Harry has Empath _blood_."

Ron frowned, asking skeptically, "Harry could be an Empath?"

"No, Ron," Hermione said with a familiar frustrated tone. "Didn't you pay attention at all today? Men can't be Empaths, only woman, but _all_ woman in the line have the gift, or curse more accurately."

Now Ron was even more confused. "So?"

"So, it's awful being an Empath. They die young and go crazy, it's an appalling existence. If Harry were to have a daughter then---"

Ron laughed out right. "Hermione, I think Harry is more concerned about surviving to graduation than what might happen to a fictional future daughter. He doesn't even have a girlfriend."

Hermione bit her lip, studying their joined hands. "I suppose."

Ron rolled his eyes. Hermione was always thinking way too far ahead. Harry's daughter, really… Then a horrible thought occurred to him, making his stomach clench. "Why do you care so much?" he asked carefully, only partially succeeding in keeping the accusation out of his voice.

Her eyes snapped back up to his, her expression confused.

Ron suddenly felt cold. He knew he was gripping her hand painfully hard. "Unless you're worried about yourself…about you and Harry."

Her expression remained bemused despite the pressure on her fingers. "Me and Harry what?"

"Unless you're concerned about _your_ daughter…" Ron heard his voice squeak at the words. He wasn't sure why this was upsetting him so much.

Hermione laughed as comprehension joined, her fingers moved against his warmly. "No, no. I can honestly say I have never thought of Harry in _that_ way."

"Never?" Ron repeated daftly. "Like the past…what about now, are you---"

"Ron," she interrupted, smiling at him with a strangely sweet expression, searching his face. "Harry's like a brother to me."

Ron felt a brief flood of relief before another strangely disturbing question popped into his mind. His next question came tumbling out before he could stop it. "Am I like a brother?" Ron felt himself panic as he said it. Why would he ask such a daft question?

The smile faded from Hermione's face and she looked away. His heart dropped. "I think you have enough siblings, don't you think?" she murmured softly.

Oh. Good. That was good. He wasn't sure why that was good, but it was. Hermione was playing with his fingers again. That was good as well. Shite, now _he_ was going mental. They really needed to get some sleep.

"Well, then..." he said clearing his throat and purposely raising his voice to a normal level. "This is nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." This time he was determined as he disentangled their fingers and removed the book from her lap.

"But…" she protested.

"Hermione, we don't know anything. We need to rest so you…_we_ can heal. We can research tomorrow." He placed the book under his bed.

"But Harry…this woman---"

"Will come by tomorrow and you can interrogate them then."

"What if they don't?" Hermione crossed her arms and fixed him with a stubborn look, but this time he wasn't dissuaded. Ron reached over and snatched her wand. "Hey," she protested, reaching for it.

He ignored her, placing the wand on the far side of his bed. "Then you'll have to get yourself better if you ever want to get out of here and track them down."

"Ron, give me back my wand," she demanded in a whine.

"Just making sure the lights stay out." He looked over her obstinate expression. The minute he turned his back she was going to be at it again. Ron frowned, considering. He stood and grabbed his own wand from under his pillow. "_Accio bed." _

Hermione raised her brows at him as he climbed in and turned to face her. "I'm just going to be right here watching you until you fall asleep. So don't even think about trying anything."

She attempted a glare, but it turned into an affectionate smile. "Well, good night, then."

"'Night."

* * *

Thank you to RedMoonChick, kjcp, JenB, and Texasmagic. 


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_, and is rated R.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Sleep was impossible. How anything so mundane, so necessary for everyday life could be impossible, Harry didn't know. Yet, it was. 

Dawn was starting to filter through his curtains. Harry mused on how amazing it was that a person could function on so little sleep. He could barely remember what being well rested felt like. Did it matter? Nothing mattered.

Well, it was close enough to morning now. Harry climbed out of his prison of a bed. The curtains on the other beds were still drawn. All except Ron's. That was his fault as well. His fault that Ron was sleeping in a hard, miserable cot in the hospital wing.

Harry spent a ridiculously long time in the shower trying to wake up, which of course was ironic _and_ impossible at the same time. How could one wake up if one never slept? How could one be alert when one's head was full of fog?

As Harry slowly descended the stairs an odd feeling came over him. Butterflies settled in his stomach and his palms became sweaty. He almost felt like he did before an important Quidditch match, if he were forced to play Quidditch after a big hole had been ripped in his gut.

It took him a minute to realize what the feeling was all about. Was he really _that_ worried about Adrianna meeting Ron and Hermione? It seemed he was. He was surprised that anything mattered to him at all.

Harry had a really bad feeling about the meeting. Hermione could be suspicious to the point of paranoia, and after she had been right about the Department of Mysteries… Whatever happened today, at least Ginny would be there. There was just something comforting and non-threatening about Ginny that no one else in his life possessed.

As he entered the common room, something moving on the sofa caught Harry's eye,. He moved closer to see Ginny curled up, sound asleep. She had on the same clothes that she was wearing yesterday. Why would Ginny be asleep in the common room? It was a little disconcerting. Was she upset? It wasn't a normal thing for her to fall asleep just anywhere, not unless something was wrong.

The thought was overwhelming. Harry didn't know if he had the strength in him to deal with another person's pain. He cringed through a wave of guilt. What kind of person did that make him? Especially since, if there _was_ something wrong, then somehow, it must be his fault.

Ginny shifted a little and turned in her sleep. Harry watched groggily. Maybe this wasn't even happening, maybe it was another of those bizarre half-awake dreams he'd been having. Nothing really _felt_ real. "Ginny," he called, testing the theory.

Immediately, Ginny's eyes snapped open and she sat up, looking around, disoriented. Instantly, Harry regretted speaking. God, he was an arsehole. He couldn't even let her sleep. Her shirt caught and twisted as she did so and Harry caught a glimpse of her pale belly. He looked away, embarrassed.

"Oh, umm…hey, Harry," Ginny mumbled sleepily. "What time is it?"

Harry shrugged, honestly not knowing the answer. He chanced a glance at her and saw she had righted her clothing. "Dunno, early, I guess. What are you doing down here?"

Ginny ran her hand over her messy hair. "I reckon I must have fallen asleep."

Well, that much was obvious. It hardly answered any of Harry's questions. Should he ask if something was wrong? What would he do if there was? He couldn't _help_ her. He just wasn't capable.

Ginny was looking him over carefully, making Harry uncomfortable. "Maybe you should go upstairs and get some real sleep," Harry suggested. He hoped that he sounded concerned. He _did_ care.

Ginny simply stared at him for a few minutes and then shook her head. "I'm fine. I slept enough." She yawned. It was as if her body was protesting her words. "Um…let me go upstairs to freshen up. Then we can go to breakfast. All right?"

Harry blinked at her and nodded slowly, feeling like his head was made of lead. For some reason he thought he should protest, but had forgotten why. He sank into the sofa as she disappeared up the girls' staircase. He stared into the ever present cool flame in the fireplace.

His mind was blissfully blank. The one advantage of not sleeping was that every day it got harder and harder to think, which meant longer and longer stretches of wonderful nothingness. He watched the flicker of the flame with interest.

Before he knew it Ginny was descending the stairs looking amazingly fresh in jeans and a ponytail. "Ready?" she called brightly.

Harry nodded, relieved that she didn't seem to be upset after all. He really needed her to be all right, with Hermione and Ron in the hospital wing… He needed _someone_ to be all right.

Silently, Harry followed her out of the tower and through the hallways. His mind drifted along behind. He suddenly realized that they were in the entrance to the Great Hall and felt a surge of panic. He didn't want to go in there. He had been scrupulously avoiding going in _there_.

"Oh, good," Ginny said with a smile. "No one is up yet. Come on." She took his arm and all but dragged him over to the Gryffindor table. Harry didn't know if he was grateful or annoyed. Really, he was too tired to feel either. He settled at the table. It was so early, that the breakfast platters hadn't even appeared yet.

"So…" Ginny prompted with an eager smile. "Tell."

Harry nodded dumbly and began reciting the story of the Pensieve as if he had read it in a dull History of Magic book. He recognized that strange monotone had crept back into his voice. He was almost done with the story when Breakfast appeared. He made a show of chewing his bacon between Ginny's questions. It tasted of leather.

"It's strange that Dumbledore couldn't find her after all these years," Ginny commented between healthy bites of food. Did she always eat like Ron? She seemed to be ravenous.

When Harry didn't reply she continued, asking lightly, "So, what else did you and Adrianna talk about?"

Harry shrugged again. "Not much. We went to have dinner with Dobby. He regaled her with stories of my second year..." he trailed off. Shite. His eyes snapped to Ginny, to see her reaction.

She swallowed carefully, looking at her plate. "The basilisk and the diary," she said with what seemed to Harry forced calm. "You were quite the hero. She must have been proud."

Harry snorted. "Yeah, well at least I didn't get anyone killed _that_ year."

"Harry!" Ginny admonished, fixing him with an intense gaze. "You did _not_ get Sirius killed. It's not your fault."

He ignored her, instead rambling on as his thoughts meandered away from him. "I was the same age then as Adrianna was when her father died. Isn't that strange?"

"Harry--"

Her pleading voice was like needles against his skin. He quickly cut her off. "So, then we um…went to her guest room. Dumbledore gave her a key. Did you know we had guest rooms?" Harry knew he was rambling. "Well, we do. Then she told me about Japan and all the places she's been and living in America and her mother, my Aunt…she's still alive, you know. Everyone else is dead. We're all that's left now."

"Oh, Harry…."

His stomach turned and he felt nauseated. He pushed the food in front of him away.

"Don't you dare." A commanding voice came from behind him and Harry looked up. "You're going to eat that," Adrianna told him, sitting down next to him and pushing the plate back. "Good morning, Ginny," she greeted with a nod, looking them over carefully. "I see you both slept well," she commented sarcastically.

Neither teenager replied. Ginny went back to eating and Harry obediently picked at a scone as he watched his cousin transfigure Pumpkin Juice into coffee and take a sip.

Suddenly, Harry felt more awake. Anxiety started to course through him and the unreal, drowsy feeling of this morning left him. Everything felt more real, too real. He was going to have to deal with the situation, with the new presence in his life and his old life all at once. Adrianna and Ginny. Adrianna and Ron. Adrianna and Hermione….crap.

"Going to be that bad, huh?" his cousin asked.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling disconnected.

"Hermione's reaction," she explained.

The realization that she had read his thoughts again dawned slowly. Harry looked at Ginny who had a strangely guilty expression and was avoiding eye contact. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. "Maybe we should wait a bit before you meet---"

"No." Adrianna shook her head. "I'm here to protect them as well."

Ginny made a sound that sounded almost like a scoff. "What if they don't want your protection?"

Adrianna shrugged. "Then they're just going to have to suck it up like the rest of us."

* * *

Hermione flipped through the pages of _A History of the Empath_, skimming the pages as quickly as she could. She knew there was a frantic quality to her reading. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for. The answers she wanted weren't going to be found in these books. They wouldn't tell her how Harry and this Adrianna woman were related. _If_ they were related. 

Yet, she needed to be prepared, before she met this woman. Hermione was not going to be caught off guard without knowledge of Empaths. She was determined to read every one of these books first. The problem was that Hermione also wanted Harry to bring Adrianna here…_right now._ It was really quite the dilemma.

If only she hadn't overslept. It was all Ron's fault. He had to be all sweet and force her go to sleep. Of course, he couldn't wake her up at a decent time either. He probably convinced Madame Pomfrey to let her have a lie in, the interfering git.

Hermione turned to glare at him and show him her displeasure. She found Ron diligently pouring over an Empath text. Immediately, she felt guilty for calling him a git, even if it was only in her head. When did he get so sweet and supportive?

Ron brow was furrowed as he read. He was so handsome when he concentrated. Even more so because Hermione knew she was the only reason he was reading the book so studiously.

The thought infused her with warmth and she had to bite back a girly sigh. Her thoughts floated to the night before…well, morning actually. The feel of her hand entwined with his, the warmth of his gaze, falling asleep so close that she could touch him. All she had to do was reach out…

He'd gone and done it again. Distracting her. Hermione was never going to get anything done at this rate. She forced herself to look back at the page. The words swam in front of her, foreign names of foreign Empaths, nothing useful.

"Damn it!" Hermione slammed the book down so hard that pain reverberated through her aching body, making her muscles cry out.

"Hermione! Well, I never!" Ron called in a mock prim voice, laughter behind his words.

"Stuff it, Ron!" This was his entire fault anyway.

"Huh!" He put a hand to his mouth in pretend indignation. Hermione threw a pillow at his head and rolled her eyes, trying to hide how funny she found his teasing.

After a moment, Ron sobered, asking, "No luck?" She shook her head despairingly and he continued, "Me neither. What exactly are we looking for again?"

Hermione rubbed her temples, frowning. "Anything…"

Ron echoed her frustrated expression as he looked down at the dusty pages. "There isn't anything else about the connection between the Potters and the Brookfields. Are you sure there is one?"

Hermione wasn't sure of anything. "Pretty sure. The question is exactly _how_ are this woman and Harry related?"

Ron leaned back on the bed, using the pillow she had thrown at him to cushion his head. "Well, we know that Harry doesn't have any brothers or sisters. Ginny didn't think the witch was _that_ old? So, a cousin maybe…" Hermione nodded absently as she watched him ramble on. She loved it when he tried to suss something out. She loved the way his mind worked.

Abruptly, he sat up and looked at her. Hermione blushed, worried she had been caught staring at him with a love sick expression. "Hey," Ron said, with an excited grin. "I think I remember my father talking about a friend from Hogwarts…Harry's father's brother. I never thought much of it." He trailed off, seeming to rack his mind. "He died in the war, if I remember correctly. Yeah, definitely. James had an older brother…I think."

Hermione's heart rate accelerated. "So, Adrianna's this man's daughter?" she asked, feeling skeptical, excited, and worried all at once.

Ron shrugged, though he looked proud of himself for his deduction. He should be, Hermione always knew he had a brilliant…Damn it, back on task. Thinking aloud, she said, "All right. So, our hypothesis is that Adrianna is Harry's cousin, his first cousin…and that she's an Empath that no one knows about?" That didn't sound right.

"How did you know?" Harry's voice jerked Hermione's eyes to the entranceway.

He stood staring at her, looking questioning and mildly furious. Just behind him stood Ginny and…the woman. Oh, heavens, there was no way that this Adrianna wasn't related to Harry. The color of her hair, the shape of her jaw and mouth…it was uncanny. This was _not_ good.

"We were right?" Ron asked, an excited look on his face. "She's really your first cousin?" Harry was glaring at him, but the woman nodded with an amused expression. "Cool, I…I mean, _we_ figured something out. Brilliant." He sat back with a self-satisfied smile.

Normally, Hermione would be proud as well, but clearly Ron did not understand the seriousness of the situation. She had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to be an ally in her distrust of this woman. Hermione looked to Ginny. The younger girl was lingering back just a bit, gauging the situation. Their eyes met. The look in Ginny's eyes echoed Hermione's wariness. At least Ron's sister was thinking clearly.

Harry clenched his jaw, a hard expression on his face. "How did you even know about her in the first place?" His accusing eyes went to Ginny, who looked increasingly distressed under his punishing gaze.

"Harry, I was worried…I just told them about what happened at Hagrid's, I--" Ginny stammered.

"Come on, Harry, what did you expect her to do?" the so-called-cousin interrupted as she casually sat in the chair between the two beds. "Sit around and wait for you while you were in Dumbledore's office? What would you have done?" She picked up one of the texts that lie on the bedside table and thumbed through it. "It's impressive really, what they figured out, 'specially considering these books are pretty crappy."

Harry sighed. "You aren't angry that they were researching you?" he asked his cousin, some of the anger leaving his tone. He almost seemed worried that they would be insulting her. Did this woman have that kind of influence over him? Already?

Adrianna shrugged. "It's what I'd do. It'd be pretty stupid not to. I'm just glad you're not all a bunch of idiots. I've protected idiots before, it's not very fun. They keep stumbling into danger, no clue how to get themselves out." She slammed the book closed. Hermione saw the title,_ The Myth and the Reality of the Empath._ "Complete crap!" she said with disgust, tossing the book on the floor.

Anger rose in Hermione. To treat a book with such disrespect---

"Some books deserve disrespect, just like some people deserve disrespect," the witch answered Hermione's unspoken complaint, making the girl's anger to turn to ice cold fear. If this was the Empathy, then they really were in trouble. Could she read all their thoughts?

"Only the ones where there're strong emotions attached," Adrianna answered again in what Hermione felt was an insolent tone. How dare she?

"Fantastic!" Ron called with enthusiasm, making Hermione turn her eyes sharply to his. What was he up to? "Is it a fun power to have?" he asked.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. Ron was acting like he was meeting a new mate. She took back every kind thing she ever said, or more accurately thought, about his intelligence. She watched, astounded, as the boy smiled stupidly.

Harry relaxed, sitting on Ron's bed, grinning at Ron and Adrianna in turn. Were all boys daft? Her stomach clenched. Was it because Adrianna was attractive? Ron was a fool for a pretty girl.

"Sometimes," the Empath answered, looking at Ron with amusement.

Hermione fumed. She had no right to be amused by her Ron. He was _her_ idiot!

"Often it's less fun." Adrianna paused looking over at Hermione. Her light expression faded. "So, you all know who I am---"

"On the contrary," Hermione replied irately, not caring at the moment how mean her tone was. "We have no idea _who_ you are."

The woman smiled a slow, interested smile. Hermione fumed. Harry bit out a warning, "Hermione."

But Adrianna interrupted him, holding out her hand, "Adrianna Potter."

Hermione's took a hissing breath at the word 'Potter,' crossing her arms to show just how much she was not going to allow this woman to touch her. "Hermione Granger," she replied heatedly.

Ron cleared his throat, shooting Hermione an angry glance. He turned and smiled up at the woman. He offered his hand like the daft fool that he was. "Ron Weasley." Hermione couldn't believe he was taking Adrianna's side over hers.

"Ron!" Hermione called out, unable to stand it any longer. "How thick can you be?"

"What?" he bit out, indignantly. "Hermione, you're being rather rude."

"Arrgh!" She fell back into the bed. Hermione turned her angry eyes to the Empath. "If you think I'm going to allow you to touch me---"

The Empath's eyes sparked with challenge. "What are you afraid of?"

Hermione scoffed, replying sarcastically, "That you'll read my mind."

"I can do that right now. I don't need touch to read minds, it helps, but all I _need_ is emotions and yours are abundant."

Hermione heard Ron snigger. His violent murder was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey, when she bustled in carrying a tray full of potions. "So, many visitors…" she said, placing the potions on Hermione's far bedside table. "Oh, my word, you must be Julian Potter's daughter. The headmaster just informed us of your arrival."

"Madam," Adrianna addressed, her posture becoming more formal as she stood and addressed the Healer.

"I knew your father…"

Hermione took advantage of Adrianna being drawn in to a conversation with Madam Pomfrey at the end of the bed. She gestured Harry and Ginny closer. Ginny sat on the edge of her bed, but Harry refused to move from Ron's. Hermione leaned closer to them. "Harry, you can't seriously trust this woman?" she whispered harshly.

"Yeah, actually I do," he answered in an equally heated tone. "I mean,  
I'm not ready to follow her to the ends of the earth but…" He looked at Ginny. "Last night Dumbledore showed me a memory in his Pensieve and she _is_ my cousin and she is _not_ working for Voldemort. I am sure of that."

Harry seemed to be looking to Ginny to confirm his story. Hermione knew that Ginny had not been witness to the events in Dumbledore's office. What was that all about? If Hermione lost Ginny as an ally…

"It is a convincing story, Hermione," Ginny said with reluctance.

Hermione eyed them suspiciously. When had Ginny heard the story? She had left the hospital wing after midnight. Had they sat up together all night? "Well," Hermione continued, trying to keep her voice even. "How do we know she is working under her own volition? What about the Imperious Curse?" Hermione tried to find some hint of reason in her friends, but Harry, annoyed, turned his head away from her.

"Look Hermione, I'm suspicious as well," Ginny said quickly. "And I know we discussed that possibility last night, but don't you think she's awfully… _lively_, for someone under the Imperious?" She gestured over to where Adrianna was talking to Madam Pomfrey animatedly.

"Oy!" Ron called furiously. He leaned over the space between the beds and attacked in a whisper, "Maybe Hermione is just threatened by having another pushy, know-it-all around. What, afraid of the competition?"

Harry gave an almost hysterical laugh and Ginny backed away, grabbing at Harry to remove him from the line of fire. Hermione thought that she had never been so angry at a person in her entire life. How dare he? After everything, how _dare_ he? Know-it-all her…bum!

"Oh, my god!" Adrianna gasped.

All eyes, with the exception of Hermione's, turned to look beyond the girl's bed at Adrianna. Hermione refused to interrupt the glare she had directed at Ron.

"These are Avada Kadavra potions!"

Hermione turned around with such speed that her ribs and neck cried out in pain. She looked up at Adrianna with angry confusion. What was she about now?

Adrianna was carefully inspecting Hermione's healing potions. She turned and looked the younger girl in the eye, asking in an astonished voice, "Hermione, did you block the Avada Kadavra?"

Hermione was dumbstruck. She shook her head. "I don't think so, I mean… it's not possible to block the Avada Kadavra," she finished with more confidence.

Adrianna was deadly serious when she replied, "Yes, it is. It's extremely difficult and requires an awfully powerful witch or wizard, and an even more powerful shield… but it's possible. I've seen it. Even so, the result is a person who is almost dead and these," she picked up the potions for emphasis, "are precisely the potions required to bring that person back."

"But I…" Hermione started, but she didn't know. She had no idea what spell Dolohov used on her. She turned to Madam Pomfrey, who looked distressed.

"I don't think Professor Dumbledore would---" the Healer was saying.

"Would what? Would want us to know the truth?" Ron retorted angrily. His face had the same horrified look it had when he awoke from a nightmare. Hermione instantly forgave him for everything.

"Well?" Ron demanded. The look on Madam Pomfrey's face was all they needed to confirm Adrianna's theory.

"What shield did you use?" Adrianna asked with a curious tone.

"I er…" Hermione couldn't think. Had she really blocked the Avada Kadavra? It didn't seem possible.

"She used a silencing charm," Harry told his cousin, a flat, strange tone to his voice.

"And that worked?" Adrianna seemed surprised.

"Nobody's ever thought of that before?" Ginny asked incredulously.

"Sure, of course, it's been _thought_ of. It's just nobody has had the nerve to test it. I mean if someone points the Avada Kadavra at me. I'm getting the hell out of the way. I'm not going to try something experimental."

"Experimental?" Ron's voice broke. He looked as though he was going to be sick.

Adrianna's expression became more serious. "I suppose you should take these. I must say I'm impressed." She turned and talked with the Healer as she walked her from the room.

Hermione swallowed, taking a deep breath before slowly drinking one foul tasting potion after another. Ginny had moved over to her brother's bed. "All right, Ron?" He nodded and tried to smile. Hermione saw him lock gazes with Harry, who had backed away and was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking guilt ridden.

Great, this was just great. "Ron?" Hermione implored.

"Hermione, please, just take your potions," he replied in a small voice.

In that moment Hermione just wanted everyone to go away. She wanted it to be just her and Ron. She needed…

Adrianna was back, _unfortunately_. She sat back in the chair and rummaged through a small bag she had slung over her shoulder. "Now, I suppose you'd like to see some _good_ books on Empaths?" she said, as she pulled out a small chest.

Hermione frowned as Adrianna tossed the chest to Harry and instructed him to place it on the floor. The Empath then pulled out an unusual champagne colored wand and enlarged the chest to a trunk. She waved the wand again, and used a spell Hermione didn't know, transforming the trunk into a bookcase full of books.

There was a collective gasp. Even Hermione was in awe, and she couldn't help it. To be able to take all those books out of one's pocket…

Adrianna was looking through the shelves. "Now this, _The Great Empath Massacre_, tells the best known history of the events from 1494 to 1520." She handed the book to Harry and went to pull out more books. "_The Lost Art of Empathy_ is an excellent rendition of the theory and powers of Empathy, and _The Legend and Legacy of The Empath_ tells the best and most complete history of Empaths throughout time, though still mostly post 1520."

She placed these books on top of the other, in Harry's outstretched arms. "Er...Adrianna, these aren't in English," Harry commented, wide eyed.

"Yes, well, that's why they aren't in your library. Hermione, what languages do you speak?"

"Um, Latin... and some French…" Hermione replied hesitantly, feeling excited against her better judgment.

"Well, these are in Romanian, German, and Japanese, so... Do you know a good translating spell?" Hermione shook her head, slowly. "Ready to learn one?" Adrianna took one heavy book from Harry's pile and placed it next to Hermione on the bed. She put the tip of her wand and her left hand on the book, "_Ligu Anglase_."

The letters changed shape and arrangement, finally stopping to form _The Great Empath Massacre_. Hermione gasped with excitement. It was a whole new world opening up.

"Would you like to try the others?" Adrianna asked.

Hermione was giddy with the possibility. She wanted to _so_ badly. She had to remind herself that she did not trust this woman. She shouldn't take anything from her, even a new spell.

Hermione nodded her ascent. It seemed she was physically incapable of turning down the chance to learn a new spell. She deliberately ignored Ron's snort, as Adrianna carefully took her through the transformation of the other two books.

"This spell will wear off in a few days. You can keep the books for now. They're all charmed to come back to me when I call, so it's not a problem," Adrianna explained when they were done. Hermione ignored Ginny's glare as she took the books. Adrianna went back over at the bookcase. "But this…." She pulled out a small tattered book and held it out to Hermione. "This is very important to me, so I'll need you to be extra careful."

Hermione took it tentatively and preformed the newly learned spell. The front was a worn purple fabric cover without wording. The first page was hand written.

_Adrianna Molikov_

_Born May 4, 1533_

"It's my..." Adrianna began, then paused, looking over at Harry. "_Our_ ancestor's diary, the one that started the Empath line in our family. It's quite the family heirloom."

The younger girl carefully turned the pages. A small drawing fell out and Hermione picked it up. It was of a young girl of twelve or thirteen. "She looks like you," she said murmured absently.

"A little." Adrianna took the sketch and held it out to Harry. "This is our great… I don't know how many greats, great grandmother." Harry took it reverently and collapsed on to the side of Ron's bed. Adrianna picked out another fabric covered book from her shelves and sat next to Harry. "_This_ is my family album."

Ginny and Ron leaned over their shoulders to see as Adrianna flipped quickly through the book. Harry had a strange, frightened look on his face. "This is Grandma Isabella and Grandpa Eddy when they were younger. These are our dads at Christmas when they were kids. Here's my parents' wedding picture."

She handed the album to Harry. Hermione thought she saw Harry's hand shake when he carefully turned the pages. Adrianna got up, allowing Ginny to sit with Harry, and transformed the bookcase back into a small chest.

Hermione ran her hand over the diary, feeling the pull of curiosity. She was confused, too many emotions warred within her. "Why are you trusting me with this?" she asked Adrianna.

"Are you not trustworthy?" the woman asked casually. Was it a challenge?

"Adrianna," Ginny called, interrupting the exchange. "Is this you?" She pointed to a picture of Lily Potter on her wedding day, holding a little girl's hand. Adrianna just nodded.

Further questions were interrupted by a clearing throat. They looked up to see Professor Dumbledore in the middle of the room. "Miss Potter, if you'd be so kind. There are some people here who would like to meet you."

"Oh. Sure." She looked at Harry and threw him a pained expression before turning back to the professors with a carefully arranged expression of polite seriousness. She touched Harry's shoulder as she passed. "I'll see you later."

After Adrianna left, Ginny quickly left her place on Ron's bed to come over to Hermione's. "I can't believe you," she hissed.

"What?" Hermione clutched the books to her, but she knew what. She was weak. She'd allowed that woman to befuddle her.

"Don't give me that. One minute you're all, 'she's evil, Harry. Don't trust her'… the next you're 'blimey, you have books so you must be honest, steadfast, and true.' You're a… you're a… a book whore, that's what you are!"

Hermione gasped in quiet indignation. "I am not," she hissed, though maybe she was. "You weren't exactly 'let's stand strongly against her.' Miss 'it was a convincing story. She's _lively_…'"

"Fine." Ginny frowned. "I just think we need to be careful. I mean, I hope she's for real." She glanced at Harry. "But—"

"We shouldn't take it for granted," Hermione agreed, with some guilt. She ran a hand over the diary.

"Oy, what are you two gossiping about?" Ron called.

"None of your business, Ronald Weasley," Ginny called back. Then she whispered to Hermione, "Which reminds me. Whenever you get a minute free of _that_ one. We need to talk."

Hermione blushed and glanced at Ron. She couldn't know about their late night activities, could she?

"But for now," Ginny paused, looking at the door that Adrianna had left through. "I think I should---"

"Follow her," Hermione whispered.

"Follow her," Ginny confirmed, getting up. "I'll see you blokes later. I promised I'd meet Colin for lunch," she called to the others.

"Bye," Ron called after her, not looking up.

Harry gave a distracted grunt, and by the time he looked up she was already gone. "Oh yeah, I should go as well." Harry grabbed the photo album and was out the door before his two remaining friends knew what happened.

Hermione looked at Ron. The pleasant expression faded from his face, indicating that he was done pretending everything was all right. And there they were, alone again.

* * *

"So, we're um…stalking Harry's cousin, then?" Colin asked Ginny from their position behind a suit of armor in one of the dark alcoves that lined a Hogwart's hallways. 

"Yes, I told you. Now, shhh!" Ginny whispered, gritting her teeth and regretting ever involving her friend in her little project.

Colin ignored her, sighing melodramatically. "I'd rather be stalking Harry," he whined.

Ginny rolled her eyes and shot him a menacing glare. "Harry's not the one I need to learn information on. Here, hold this." She handed him the receiving portion of her extendable ear as she carefully levitated the other ear to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office.

"Yes, but…" Colin grinned evilly and whispered in her ear. "I bet she doesn't have his cute little arse."

Ginny gasped, flushing. She smacked him on the arm, causing him to wince and laugh simultaneously. "Colin!" she hissed. "I have no interest in Harry _or_ his cousin's arse, not anymore," she denied, only half lying.

Colin was having none of it. He smiled knowingly, even as he held the ear to his face to listen. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to concentrate on the levitation. After a few minutes Colin whispered, casually, "I know you still look. I've seen you. It's only gotten better over the years."

"What has?" Ginny asked irritably. She should have known he wouldn't give up so easily.

"You know what I'm talking about…Harry's arse." Ginny groaned as he began again. "Don't you think he's gotten even sexier this last year…all dark and brooding?"

Yes, she certainly did think so, and it's been driving her crazy. "No. I'm done with Harry Potter," she hissed.

Colin laughed softly, "Is that's why we're spying on his cousin, then?'

"He's still my friend," she protested. Quickly, she added, "Do you hear anything?" Ginny's brow knitted with concentration, trying to block out the teasing. She levitated the ear around the edges of the entrance. Damn stone walls. Why couldn't Dumbledore have a keyhole like a normal wizard?

Colin shook his head as he pressed the receiver to his ear. "You don't have a boyfriend any more and rumor has it Harry's done with Cho Chang, so… Wait," Colin paused, drawing Ginny's eager eyes to him. "I hear…" She stared at him expectantly. "…a grinding stone?" He shrugged.

Ginny's eye's whipped around and she saw the gargoyle turn and reveal a hidden spiral staircase. "Oh, oh, voices," Colin whispered, pressing the receiver against her ear, his face close to hers.

"It is so lovely to meet you, Adrianna. Can't say what a relief it is to have an Auror of your caliber watching over our dear Harry." Ginny made out a distant, familiar, male voice.

Adrianna appeared first down the staircase. "It is my pleasure." Her voice betrayed nothing but graciousness, but her expression was one of displeasure.

Ginny felt her heart stop when she saw Adrianna pause, as if listening. The Empath turned and looked directly at the levitated ear. Ginny grabbed Colin's arm roughly. The voices were getting louder and feet were appearing behind Adrianna.

Ginny held her breath. Adrianna looked right at her and smiled. She snatched the extendable ear out of the air and held it in front of her as she finished her downward climb. She turned to smile politely to the others as they descended and joined her in the hall. When no one was looking the woman slipped the ear into her open bag.

"Should we go?" Colin whispered, suddenly sounding anxious, the teasing completely gone from his tone.

Ginny shook her head and set her jaw. She didn't know what Adrianna was up to, but she would be damned if she wasn't going to find out. A challenge had been issued and she was _not_ going to back down.

Down the stairs appeared Minister Fudge, followed by Professor Dumbledore, and Professor McGonagall.

"So nice of you to contact the Department of Law Enforcement, Albus. Can't tell you how excited Carter was. Kept going on about how talented our young Miss Potter was." Fudge talked quickly, with forced brightness.

"I'm sure those Express Owls from America were a pleasure as well, eh, Cornelius?" Dumbledore said smiling.

"Yes, yes, quiet happy to have you here." The Minister laughed nervously.

"Can I escort you to your carriage?" Professor McGonagall asked pointedly. Fudge looked further flustered, not sure if he was being rushed out. Ginny suspected that he was.

"Do have a lovely trip back." Adrianna inclined her head politely.

Fudge took it upon himself to grab her hand and shake it vigorously. "Yes, yes, anything we can do for you at the British Ministry, please let us know."

"I'll do that."

"Good day!" Dumbledore called to their retreating backs as he turned and shared a meaningful look with Adrianna.

Oh god, she's going to give the ear to Dumbledore. Ginny just knew she was. She'd have detention on the last week of school. All because of that---

"Snape," Colin whispered, grabbing her shirt.

Ginny's eyes widened as her eyes flew to her least favorite professor, who was approaching Adrianna and Dumbledore. She reached over to Colin and pressed them both back into the shadows. Ginny cursed herself for not nicking Harry's invisibility cloak.

Snape walked rapidly toward the headmaster. Thankfully, he paid no attention to the alcove or its occupants. "Professor," Snape greeted Dumbledore stiffly, with a small bow. "If I could have a moment of your time?"

"Of course, Severus, but first." Dumbledore graciously gestured toward his guest, "Let me introduce you to Miss Adrianna Potter."

Snape glowered at her, clearly surprised. "Potter," he sneered.

"Yes, indeed, it's a pleasure to meet you." Adrianna held out her hand, silently challenging him to take it. The Potion Master extended his hand carefully, as if touching something revolting.

Adrianna expression changed to one of curiosity and then to distress. She frowned. "Wow, you're a sad one aren't you? Haven't felt anything quite like that in a while." She took a deep breath.

Snape snatched his hand away, realization dawning on his face. "You're Julian Potter's lost daughter….the Empath." The last part was an accusation.

"You don't have to be this way," Adrianna said as if he hadn't said a word. "Alone, miserable. This is your choice."

"How dare you!" he growled in return.

"Yeah, well, you'd be amazed at what I dare." She shrugged. "We should talk sometime."

"You imprudent, arrogant---" Ginny had never seen such fury on Snape's face, which was saying something. Angry bloke, he was.

"Severus," Dumbledore said insistently, guiding him gently away from Adrianna. "You needed to speak to me." His eyes twinkled at Adrianna as he turned and followed Snape up the stairs.

Adrianna turned toward Ginny, raising her eyebrows she fingered the extendable ear. Ginny steeled herself as the woman began to approach her. Now what was she going to do?

* * *

Thank you to RedMoonChick, kjcp, JenB, and Texasmagic. 


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_, and is rated R.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Six

* * *

**

Shite. Shite. Shite. Ginny was in for it now.

She stood up as straight as she could. Shoulders back, chin up, Ginny told herself to stop panicking. Adrianna was going to know if she kept panicking and then all her subtle ruse would be for nothing. She was going to have to learn to control her emotions if the Empath was going to be around for awhile.

Adrianna approached Ginny and Colin, who stood in the alcove across the hallway from Dumbledore's office. Once she had reached the two students, she pulled Ginny's extendable ear out of her bag. "What's this?" she asked looking at them with an unreadable expression.

Ginny tilted her chin up and clenched her teeth, letting herself feel anger, determination, stubbornness. Trying to transmit anything but fear… She met the Empath's eyes with every ounce of courage she had.

The staring must have gone on for far too long for Colin's taste, because he sighed loudly, saying with exaggeration, "It's an extendable ear. Ginny's brothers invented them." Ginny's narrowed eyes flew to her friend and glared at him. Bringing him was a _really_ stupid idea.

Adrianna's gaze also went to the blond boy. She examined the ear and gave a soft almost bitter chuckle, saying under her breath, "Ah, yes, the ever talented Weasleys."

She looked back up at Ginny and offered the devise back to her with an outstretched hand. "You should be more careful with that. You don't want Professor _Glower_ over there to find it. Something tells me that it wouldn't go over too well with him."

Ginny swallowed, staring at the ear for a moment before she took it and tucked it into her pocket. She watched Adrianna warily as the witch turned to consider Colin more carefully. "You must be a friend of Ginny's."

Colin extended his hand. Ginny remembered how Ron had done that just as easily. Were all boys trusting fools?

Shaking Adrianna's hand, with an only slightly limp wrist, Ginny's blond friend offered, "Colin Creevey, and you are Harry's cousin." He looked her over appraisingly. He tilted his head to the side to look at the woman's backside, making Ginny close her eyes in mortification. Colin nodded with appreciation. "I see the resemblance."

Adrianna laughed full out. "You're a fan of Harry's, I see."

Colin was unabashed when he admitted, "His biggest. So, you're an Empath, then?" Ginny didn't like the gleam in his eye.

"Yeah…" Adrianna said carefully, clearly amused by Ginny's friend.

"So," Colin continued, with false innocence. "You must know, say, the hidden sexual leaning of a certain brooding, green-eyed bloke we know…"

Ginny knew that the floor was going to open up and eat her alive. She couldn't believe she thought bringing Colin was a good idea. She should have brought Neville, or Luna, or anyone. Malfoy would have been a better idea.

Adrianna stifled a laugh. "Sorry, I've got a strict policy about interfering in matters of the heart. Good luck with that though." She turned to look at Ginny, "So, eh… You learn anything with that ear thingy?"

Ginny shrugged. No reason to hide anything at this point. Adrianna would know if she lied. "Not really," she answered with bitterness.

"Do you want to?"

"Want to what?" she asked warily.

Adrianna rolled her eyes. "Know what happened in the meeting. Walk with me and I'll fill you in."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. This had to be a trick. No one had ever given Ginny information willingly. "Why?"

Adrianna gestured her head away from the alcove. "Come on, and I'll tell you."

Ginny knew she shouldn't go. The Empath was trying to bribe her. She had read her and knew that knowledge would be the ultimate prize. And damn it, it was working. Ginny nodded.

"Ginny?" Colin asked as they started to walk away.

Ginny glared at him, making it clear with her expression that she was not bringing the-boy-who-could-do-nothing-but-talk-about-Harry's-arse with them. "See you later, Colin."

Adrianna waved at the boy, stifling laughter, and making Ginny want to hit her. "He's sweet," she remarked lightly.

Ginny practically growled at the older woman. "Why are you offering this? What do you want from me?"

Adrianna was unruffled. "Ginny, I'm here to protect you. We need to work together. Why would I keep information from you?"

Ginny slowed, looking warily around the hallway as they walked. She whispered, "You're here to protect Harry, not me."

"I thought I made it clear that he was only part of it."

"Yes, and Ron and Hermione. I remember." Ginny sighed with exasperation, why did people keep putting her with those three. She wasn't a part of them. She knew that painfully well.

"Hmm, so that's how it is than," Adrianna remarked, not looking at her. "I believe what I said was, I'm here to protect Ron and Hermione….as well as Harry and _you_."

Ginny froze in the middle of the entrance way to the castle, her heart beating wildly. "Why me?"

Adrianna laughed, "Like I know. Unfortunately, this fight is your destiny."

Ginny shook her head. She had it all wrong. Ginny forced herself to start walking again. "Harry's the one with the destiny, not me."

"Everyone has a destiny, Ginny." Adrianna glanced at her as she led her outside into the garden. "Harry's is a little grander then most and yours is fundamentally tied to his."

Ginny was breathing fast, her heart skipped a beat_. Fundamentally tied with his._ That's not what she meant. She's talking about the war, not Harry's love life.

'I do not fancy Harry Potter.' She chanted to herself. 'I do not! Not anymore.' "In what way is my destiny tied to his?" Ginny asked anyway, holding her breath.

Adrianna shrugged lightly. "It's not clear yet."

"It's not clear yet?" she repeated quietly, with dripping sarcasm.

"Sorry, that's how these things work."

"Well, that's convenient isn't it?" Ginny bit out bitterly.

"Not really. Let's walk by the woods where it's more private." Adrianna didn't wait for an answer, merely led her away from the castle.

Ginny scrambled to catch up as thoughts flew through her head. "This destiny thing, does it have to do with Voldemort?" Or did it have anything to do with Harry falling madly in love with her?

Adrianna nodded. "Oh yes, that much is clear."

Ginny's heart skipped a beat.

Adrianna laughed, "Yes, to the one you said out loud…. the other, well, as I told Colin, I learned a long time ago not to give away the answers to those kinds of questions. _That_ you'll have to figure out on your own."

"So you know the answer to _that_ question?" Ginny pressed, her heart running rampant. They _were_ talking about the same thing?

All she got for her efforts were a nod and a short, "Of course."

Ginny waited for her continue, her frustration growing. She just wished she would tell her Harry was meant to be with someone else. Then she could move on or something, not that she hadn't all ready moved on. "You said I needed information…so you should tell me---"

Adrianna smiled at her. "You know that this is different. Good try though."

Ginny crossed her arms, knowing she was sulking. She refused to look at the woman she was walking with, angry and upset at the fact that this woman now knew how she felt about Harry…and how Harry felt about her. It was bloody humiliating.

They reached the woods. "So, do you want to know about what happened in Dumbledore's office or what?" Adrianna asked.

Trying to remember her pride, Ginny said defiantly, "So, tell me, then." There was that annoying laugh again.

"Well, as you saw, your lovely Minster of Magic requested to see me." Adrianna sighed, growing serious. "He's not very bright. The man came to Dumbledore's office _after _talking to his Aurors. He _knows_ I'm an Empath and he purposely comes to see me… to _lie_ to me." Adrianna seemed genuinely annoyed. "I've been a magical lie detector since I was four. How does this man run an entire magical kingdom?"

Ginny told herself she was not allowed to be amused or swayed by this woman. "Not very well," she replied, carefully. "Why did he come here?"

"Damage control," Adrianna stated easily. "He was worried about what I might do. So, he came to convince me that he's Harry's bestest best friend and we should all work together in harmony."

"Git," Ginny muttered under her breath. Her disgust with the Minister of Magic grew by the day. "What was he afraid of?" Perhaps that she'd lead to their destruction, she thought sarcastically.

"Please, he's not that smart, or unselfish. No, he's afraid I might get him thrown from power." The woman spoke as if it were an ordinary everyday thing to do.

Ginny felt a shot of fear, but pushed it aside and scoffed, "He's paranoid."

"Yes, but not this time." Adrianna was deadly serious. "I have a lot of powerful friends all over the world, Ginny. I've done a lot of favors. Those letters you heard McGonagall mention, they were from the MIA, the Magical Intelligence Agency of America. Close cousin of the CIA, for whom I'm still on the payroll. I can guarantee the letters held thinly veiled threats. The MIA is very protective."

Ginny's heart rate sped up again. She took a deep breath. "Would you really try to dispose the Minister of Magic?" Adrianna couldn't really have that kind of power, could she?

"No," Adrianna shook her head, and then shrugged. "Well, not at the moment. Fudge is stupid and selfish, but not evil. I have no intention of bothering with him at all. Not unless he becomes dangerous."

Ginny didn't know what to think. She hated Fudge, wanted him out of power. But that a stranger could show up, a foreigner, and remove the most powerful wizard in Great Britain…

The Empath stopped, looking at her carefully, almost sadly. "Well, I think that might be enough information for now. When you have more questions, I'll be around. I think I had better check up on Harry."

"Er…" Ginny muttered, flustered. "Do you want me to help look for him?'

"Nah, he's out by the lake brooding, again."

Again that familiar fear. "How do you know?"

"He's a giant ball of grief and fury. He kind of broadcasts. If I piss him off and he tells me to take a flying leap, I'll let you know," Adrianna offered.

Ginny shook her head, swallowing. "We don't have that kind of relationship."

"Don't you?" Adrianna said lightly as she walked off.

As she disappeared over the hill, Ginny knew that their conversation had left her with more questions than answers.

* * *

Ron seethed. As soon as Harry left, he had purposefully turned his body away from Hermione. He avoided her best he could, his body tense, his jaw clenched. At first, there were these sweet soft pleas for him to talk to her. Velvety little 'Ron's that sent shivers up his spine and rage through his veins. 

Ron wished Hermione would just have the bloody courtesy to yell at him. His body itched with the need to finish the fight they had started before they were interrupted by Adrianna's announcement about the potions…

Shite. He did _not_ want to think about that. Ron felt nausea so intense that he gagged. Hermione had been hit by the Avada Kadavra. She tried to block it with… How could she be so bloody stupid!

Ron's fists clenched and he knew if there was someone in the room he could punch, he would beat them to a bloody pulp. If he got his hands onto Hermione…he'd squeeze her so tight, she'd have bruises the next morning. Then he'd never forgive himself.

So, Ron kept his eyes tightly shut. He ignored Hermione's rustling and page flipping. He thought he had even heard a sniffle at one point, and he hadn't even cared. He actually thought, good, let her cry her bleeding heart out. Maybe then she'd get some sense and stop throwing herself in the path of danger.

Madam Pomfrey bustled in with lunch trays. Once the Healer left and Ron was sitting up with the tray before him, Hermione seemed to think it was the perfect opportunity to try again.

"Ron, please. Talk to me." Hermione's voice was so entreating, so soft and sweet. A couple of hours ago the anger was coming off her in waves. Ron preferred that.

When he didn't answer, her tone took on more of a chiding tone. "Ron, you are behaving like a child."

Ron ignored her best he could, taking a bite of his sandwich. It stuck in his throat. He drained a glass of pumpkin juice to force it down. A wave of nausea followed.

Hermione again changed her tactic. "You know I didn't do anything wrong. I don't deserve this treatment," she said logically.

Ron was going to be sick, he was sure of it. When he tried to take another bite of his sandwich his stomach contracted painfully and he tasted bile. He lifted the tray and put it on the floor. Once again, Ron lay down, turning away from Hermione.

"That's enough!" Finally, Hermione sounded annoyed. When she started to yell, maybe he'd be satisfied. "If you won't talk to me, then…"

Ron heard the unmistakable sound of Hermione trying to get out of bed. Panic coursed through him, joining the anger, and setting him in motion. He was up and by her side before he had time to think about it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Ron snapped furiously. He grabbed her ankles and roughly swung them back onto the bed. He barely spared a thought for touching the previously forbidden body part. "You are _not_ supposed to be out of bed."

For a moment, Hermione was limp with shock, staring at her legs, then Ron in turn. That changed in an instant. Ron tried to push her shoulders back on the bed and she hit his chest angrily. "Ron, get your ruddy hands off me."

His hands fell away, satisfied that she was bed-bound at least, but it was too late to stop him entirely. Once Ron had taken motion he wasn't to be stopped. He slammed her food tray in front of her. "You _are_ sick. You _need_ to eat," he commanded. He felt agitated, restless.

"Oh, that's rich! You're sick as well. What's your excuse?" Hermione was breathing quickly, shoving her tray off of her legs.

"_I_ didn't get hit by the Avada Kadavra," Ron ground out. He wished he had something to hit. Instead, he turned his attention to Hermione's bedside, where the dozen or so potion vials sat. "Did you drink all your potions?" He picked them up one by one and shook them to make sure they were empty, slamming them down when he was through.

"Of course I did! Ron, please, stop, you're acting crazy." Hermione reached out and grasped his forearm, but he shook her off.

That's right, he was absolutely barmy. He had gone completely around the bend. It didn't feel so bad, really. "I told you to eat."

"Ron, you're going to break something."

He hoped so, he really did.

"Ron! I took all my potions. I'm fine." Her voice was rational, caring. "This is about what Adrianna said, about the spell... about the Av---"

Ron froze. "I do _not_ want to talk about that Hermione."

"Well I do!" she yelled back.

"Fine you want to talk, let's talk." Ron took a breath, feeling better. Finally, he was going to get the row he needed. "Let's talk about how you belittle and insult me in front of people. Or maybe, let's talk about how nasty and rude you were to Harry's cousin."

Ron saw the flame light in her eyes. That's it, love. Let go. Let me have it.

Hermione started off quietly, calmly, but he could see the fire lurking below the surface. "I did not belittle you, Ron. I was just trying to---"

He wanted the fire. "What? Make it absolutely clear that you think I'm a thick-headed git?"

"No. I didn't…" Hermione's voice rose, "Maybe if you didn't---"

"Didn't what?"

"Didn't _act_ like a thick headed git!"

"Excuse me!"

"Come on, Ron you walked right into her trap---" Hermione was really shouting now.

"What trap? There was _no_ trap."

"There could have been."

"She's Harry's cousin, Hermione."

"She is a _stranger_, Ronald!

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe Harry needed us to be supportive? That he might want his best mates to get along with his family?"

That caused her to be still, taken aback, contemplative. He couldn't have that. He didn't want to be _heard_. Ron went in for the kill. "But what did you do, Hermione? Huh? You attacked her as soon as she walked through the door. Then you attack me when I try to be civil to her."

She was sputtering with fury. That's his girl. "This isn't about Harry," she said, her voice like ice. "This is about _you_ trying to impress a pretty woman."

He laughed out loud. "You can do better than that!"

"Don't you deny it! Whenever an attractive woman looks at you, you turn into a daft puppy dog, ready to lick her face."

"I have _never_---"

"Fleur," she hissed, crossing her arms.

"Fleur was part veela. She was using her powers. What's your excuse? Lockhart?"

Hermione huffed, "He was a teacher."

"I don't see you mooning after Snape."

"I didn't moon… This isn't the point."

"No," Ron took the shift in stride. He didn't pause for a breath. "The point _is_ that Harry needed our support and all you cared about was being right!"

"How dare you! I care about Harry! I care enough to worry about some ultra powerful seductress---"

"Seductress! Ha!"

"---who could very well be taking advantage of him. Who could be working for the enemy! But you're too thick to think about that!"

"I'm thick! Well, maybe I am thick, but at least I'm smart enough to not throw my suspicions in someone's face."

"No, instead you offered yourself to Adrianna on a silver platter."

"Please! By the end, you trusted her well enough. Oh, but then she _reads_, so she must be a good person."

"I did not---"

Ron was on a roll. He grabbed one of the books and waved it at her. "At least I don't think books are more important than people!" He stormed across the room and threw it in the trash bin.

Hermione had enough. She swung her feet over the side of her bed and started to rise for the first time since the Department of Mysteries.

"Hermione," Ron warned, fear mixing with anger. "I told you to stay in bed."

"You know what, Ron? I'm a little tired of your commands." She struggled to her feet unsteadily. For a moment their eyes met across the room, in stubborn battle. Hermione took an unsteady step toward him and clutched her side in pain.

"Hermione, I told you…" Ron was by her side in two long strides. He gripped her by the arms trying to guide her to sit, but this time Hermione wasn't letting him put her to bed so easily.

"No. I'm fine! Get your hands off me, you great brute!" She struggled to dislodge him, pushing at his arms.

"Are you trying to kill yourself?" He bellowed, breathing heavily. Ron was having trouble thinking clearly. Didn't she care that she was sick, that she had almost died? Why did she keep risking herself? Ron struggled with her grasping arms. Frustrated, he bent his legs and wrapped both arms around her waist. He stood, lifting her off the ground.

"Get off of me, you oaf." Hermione pounded his shoulders and back.

Ron tried to gently lay her down, but she wouldn't stop wriggling. He put one knee on the bed with her, using the leverage to try to make her lay back. "Bloody hell! Stop moving!"

"You're hurting me!"

"If you would stop!" Ron wrestled her down, pinning her to the bed with his body. To still her, he grabbed her wrists and trapped them above her head.

Hermione froze and Ron suddenly realized the position they were in. The bulk of his weight was off to her side so he wouldn't crush her, but…his chest was pressed against her and one long leg restrained both of hers. Their faces were barely an inch apart. It was just a good thing his pelvis wasn't pressed against her… He certainty didn't want her to feel _that_.

Ron was acutely aware of every place where his body touched hers. He had never been so turned on in his life. He met Hermione's eyes for a brief moment, but she quickly averted hers. That moment had been enough. Had Ron seen desire in her eyes? Did he know what desire looked like?

Her breath was coming in quick little pants against his lips. They were so close to his. Shite. Ron was going to kiss her.

His body shook with the force it took to keep his lips off hers. He wasn't ready for this. He didn't know if this is what he wanted. He could almost feel her lips, just a hair's breath away.

Shite, Ron knew he _wanted_ this. He just didn't know if he wanted what it would mean. If he kissed Hermione it would change everything. One way or another they could never go back. Did he want that?

Did Hermione want that? It was a sobering thought.

For the first time Ron realized how egotistical he was being. He had Hermione physically restrained while he decided what_ he_ wanted. Shite, he was practically forcing her and she…she couldn't even look at him.

Hermione had almost died and he was hurting her, trying to decide if he should force himself on her. It was practically rape. Self- loathing coursed through him.

Ron wrenched himself off her with such force that he staggered to the other side of the room. He found a sink and crouched over it, splashing water on his face. He had to get his body under control.

"Ron," he heard Hermione call softly, from a great distance.

A litany was repeating in his head. She had been hit by the killing curse. She was in pain. He had taken advantage of her. He...

Ron felt the bile rise in his throat along with the self-hatred. He clutched at the sink as what little he had of lunch came back up. He heard Hermione call his name again as he fell to his knees and pressed his burning cheek against the cold sink.

"Damn it, Ron. Are you all right?" He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Hermione swing her legs over the side of the bed again.

"I'm fine. _Please_, just bloody stay put." Ron instantly regretted his harsh words. "I'm sorry, Hermione." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm _so_ sorry."

He vaguely heard her call for Madam Pomfrey, who rushed in and hovered over him for long minutes, asking him questions. Finally, he said to her, "Madam, my arms are burning. Do you think I could have that healing bath you mentioned before?"

The Healer nodded. As she led him to an adjoining room for a bath, Ron felt a rush of relief at being extricated from Hermione's intense gaze.

He just hoped she could forgive him.

* * *

Harry decided not to respond when Adrianna called to him across the lawn. He just continued to clutch the photo album between his chest and knees. He stared out at the lake. This was his new favorite pastime. 

Why couldn't Adrianna leave him alone? He couldn't… He didn't want to be cheered up. He didn't want to hear any more stories, about people he never met, about memories he couldn't share. Harry stiffened as she sat next to him. If he thought 'Go Away' really loud, would she go?

"You're holding on to that album as if your life depended on it," Adrianna said casually. A barely perceptible shrug was all he had to offer. "Something you see in there upset you?"

What could possibly upset him? Maybe, oh, everything, every smiling face he would never met or would never see again. Harry's jaw clenched and his eyes stung.

Adrianna persisted despite his silence. "Did you have any questions about any of the pictures?"

All of them, but Harry didn't want to hear it… he couldn't. She should understand that. If Adrianna knew how he felt, then she should leave. She should know that he needed to be alone, but she didn't leave and one question was consuming him. When Harry finally spoke, it sounded more like an accusation. "You knew Sirius."

"We met."

"There's a picture of him holding you and laughing." Harry refused to look at her.

"I was, like, six years old in that picture, Harry."

"You kept it, it meant something to you."

"True. Sirius and I weren't the only people in that picture. He was your father's best friend. It makes sense that we met."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry kept his voice even and cold.

"Did you want to hear that last night?" she asked softly.

"Yes."

"Liar." It was said in a matter-of-fact way, without indictment.

"You knew him," Harry repeated.

"Some... not like you did."

"You should have told---"

"Harry, I won't fight you. I know anger is easier, but I'm not taking the bait."

Fine. That was just great. Could she go away then? _Please_. "What do you know about anything?"

"I know about dead fathers."

Harry choked. Who said things like that?

"I didn't tell you the story about what convinced my mother to let me got back to witchcraft school."

"I don't want to hear anymore stories."

"You need to hear this one."

Harry closed his eyes and buried them in his knees, shielding himself by becoming a tight ball. He didn't loosen his hold on his photo album.

Adrianna began her story leisurely. "The summer after my father died, I had my first vision."

Harry didn't understand why she was torturing him.

"In my vision my father came to me." She took a deep breath. "He told me that he needed me to go on and fight my curse. He had always said that we would find a way to get past the expiration date thing. He told me not to turn my back on magic, and that he would always be with me…all that sort of sappy stuff."

Harry still wouldn't look at her. He refused to bend, though tears pooled in his eyes.

"So you see, it really didn't matter what my mother said. I was going back to school."

Please, Harry silently begged. He couldn't hear any more.

Adrianna continued to ignore his unspoken pleas. "I believe that my visions are my father's way of steering me through life." She paused, "I could be wrong. Maybe it's just a scared little girl's way of deluding herself, but even if it is… It's what I believe."

Harry groaned, a bitter strangled sound. He wanted to scream. Why was she doing this to him? How could this possibly help? Adrianna knew her father. Harry never had, never would. And now she was blathering on about how she got to keep her father with her. Well, that's just bloody fantastic for her. Harry didn't have shite.

"Just wait, Harry. I'm just getting to the good part."

He wanted to hit her.

"Four days ago," Adrianna continued. "I had another vision. This time, it was Sirius who was talking to me."

Harry gasped, his heart clenching. His eyes finally left their hiding place, fixing on her with a sharp jerk. He hoped she could feel his fury. Harry found her looking back at him with crystal clear eyes, his father's eyes. "I think I heard your parents' voices too. They told me... pleaded with me to take care of you for them. So, just like my mother, you don't have a choice. I am going to honor their wishes."

Harry sobbed, turning away again, shaking his head.

"Harry, I believe that Sirius is happy where he is. He's with your father. The only thing that is keeping him from being at peace is missing and worrying about you. So, he sent me to you to take care of you."

"I don't..." he choked on the wave of grief. Harry felt an arm come around his shoulder and he wanted to pull away, but instead he felt himself leaning into her. When the fight finally left him, his cousin put her other arm around him and laid her cheek on his head.

It hurt so much. Harry missed him so much.

"He misses you, too."

The dam broke and sobs wracked his body. Adrianna quietly rocked him until he had no more tears to give.


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_, and is rated R.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Seven

* * *

**

Hermione didn't know how long after Ron left that she lay sobbing into her pillow. She did know that she had _never_ felt so alone or so _ugly_ in her life. And _that_ was saying something.

She heard someone calling her. Though the pillow muffled the sound, a soft concerned voice said, "Blimey, Hermione, what's wrong?"

Hermione froze, clutching the pillow to her face. She recognized that voice. Ginny. Great, this was just great. One more person to witness her humiliation. Ron's sister, nonetheless. She was never taking her head out of this pillow.

"Come on, Hermione…" Ginny wheedled, as she gently attempted to peal the pillow away from her face. But Hermione was feeling childish and defiant and gripped it to herself fiercely, shaking her head. Couldn't she be allowed to morn the death of her dreams in peace?

"Hermione, will you please..." There was an edge of impatience in Ginny's tone as she took control of the tug-a-war and wrenched the pillow away violently, leaving Hermione's head to fall on the hard bed, bereft.

"All right, there, Hermione?" Ginny asked in an amused tone. Then she seemed to see the misery on Hermione's face and the tears that, despite her best efforts, she couldn't control. A worried look came over the Ginny's face, and she scanned the room, finally asking anxiously, "Where's Ron?"

Hermione rolled over and looked up at Ginny. "He's fine," she said wretchedly. It sounded like a whine. Hermione Granger did _not_ whine. Damn Ron Weasley! Hermione reached for the pillow again and Ginny scowled at her, tossing the pillow across the room. Damn _Weasleys_, a curse on their red heads!

"Hermione," Ginny demanded. "Where is my brother?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. "He's taking a bath." Hermione had a clear image of Ron's lanky form bent over the water basin. She made him sick. He couldn't get away from her fast enough. Fresh tears leaked around her closed lids.

"Then what's the matter? Does this have to do with Sirius or…?"

"No, no." Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. She opened her eyes and swiped her face with open palms. "It's nothing that significant."

"Then what?" The younger girl asked softly. The concern in her voice made Hermione's tears fall anew. She shook her head and looked away. "Just tell me," Ginny insisted.

"It's just…" Hermione clenched her jaw. Ginny probably wasn't the best person to tell given her relation, but who else was there? Considering her words carefully, Hermione softly explained, "I made Ron sick is all."

Ginny actually laughed. "What? Don't be silly, the last thing you make Ron is sick. Barmy, maybe."

The laugh was not reassuring, though suddenly Hermione had the need to make Ginny appreciate the severity of the situation. "You don't understand. I made him sick, _literally_."

"Hermione," Ginny scoffed, shaking her head, disbelievingly.

"No, Ginny," she said urgently. "He…" Hermione faltered, unable to get the words out. "He was going to… I mean, it looked like… I thought he was going to kiss me---"

Ginny squealed, "Oh my god, that's so---"

"Then he wretched in the sink." Hermione was surprised at her own matter-of-fact tone.

"What?" Ginny let out one giggle, then bit her lip to still the rest.

Hermione frowned at her. That's right, laugh. It was right hysterical. She no longer gave a care for the tears pouring down her cheeks. She deserved a good cry. It was all over, all her hopes. How could she ever have thought there was a chance with Ron? Why would he be attracted to her? Why would anyone?

Ginny searched Hermione's face, the humor fading from the younger girl's expression. "All right, start over. There's got to be more to the story than _that_."

Yeah, Hermione thought, Ron also thought she was a self-centered egomaniac and he hated her. Oh, and she might possibly be in love with him, so she was probably going to spend the rest of her life as a pitiful old maid surrounded by cats and dusty old books. Yes, that about summed up the situation.

Ginny pulled up a chair and leaned over, placing a hand on Hermione's and squeezing. Her tone was genuine and intent. "Look, I know my brother. That doesn't make sense. Start from the beginning and don't leave anything out."

Since she had no pride left, and no one else to tell, Hermione recounted the events to Ginny. She couldn't help but shudder at the horrible things she and Ron had said to one another. A few hours ago, she would have sworn that Ron was lashing out because he had been afraid for her, because she had almost died. Now…

What if he didn't really care that much? What if he really meant all the terrible things he said to her?

"…so he was, kind of lying half on top of me, his lips practically…" Hermione took a lungful of air. "Then he was gone, across the room, bent over the sink, vomiting. Next thing I knew he was asking Madam Pomfrey for a bath. He couldn't get away from me fast enough."

"Oh, Hermione---"

Great. Pity.

"---I'm sure---"

"Sure what, Ginny? What else could it possibly be? Ron found himself in a place of physical intimacy with me and it made him sick." Hermione was proud that she had sounded so logical. It made her feel more herself, even if herself _was _miserable.

"No," Ginny said firmly, shaking her head. "I don't believe it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It happened."

"Look, he's ill. You're in the bloody hospital for god's sake. He was feeling sick. That's why he didn't eat lunch. He was all worked up over the whole Avada Kadavrathing, worried about _you_. You two wrestled…" Ginny gave a suggestive eyebrow raise. "He felt like he was going to hurl, so in a rare moment of consideration, he got off of you," Ginny couldn't resist another leer for emphasis. "So he wouldn't be sick _on_ you. Then he was so humiliated, he skittered on out of here. _That_ sounds more like the Ron we know and love."

Hermione shook her head despondently. "Thanks, Ginny, but I don't think so." She refused to acknowledge that the panicked emptiness she had been feeling had lessened. It was too tempting to believe her, too dangerous.

"I _know_ so," Ginny responded confidently.

Talking helped. The desperate misery was gone and Hermione felt calmer. Now she felt the sudden need to change the subject, to have a moment of distance. Hermione dried her eyes and asked, "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Ginny's eyes widened. She seemed thrown by the question. "Oh, I… I, um, just came by to help with research and tell you about spying---"

"No, before, you said you wanted to talk without Ron." Hermione looked at her curiously. Ginny was acting strange, all of a sudden.

"Oh, _that_." Ginny gave a great show of nonchalance. It wasn't fooling anyone. "Yeah… er maybe this isn't the best time."

"What is it?" Hermione insisted. Ginny wilted under her demanding gaze. "Look, after what I just told you---"

That got her. Guiltily, Ginny defended herself, "I just thought that now might not be the best time to ask you for advice about boys."

Hermione sighed and was actually able to smile at her own expense. "Ginny, it's never a smart time to ask _me_ for advice on boys."

Ginny scoffed. "You've just had a bad day."

Hermione harrumphed. Her experience with boys consisted of following around her two best friends and watching them fall for _other_ girls. Even Viktor didn't count as experience. She let Ron believe it was more than it ever was. Really, it was nothing more than a casual friendship. "So, is this about Michael?" she prompted.

"No, we're over." Ginny wrinkled her nose and lowered her voice in embarrassment. "It's about Dean Thomas."

"Dean Thomas?" the older girl exclaimed, truly shocked.

"Shhh! I don't want Ron to know."

Hermione lowered her voice. "You fancy Dean?"

"I dunno, maybe. He fancies me."

Of course, he fancied _her_. What wasn't to fancy about Ginny Weasley? "Really? How do you know?"

"Well, he kinda kissed me." Ginny cringed and bit her lip, waiting for Hermione's reaction.

She blinked at her. Truth was Hermione didn't know how to react. She was still stuck on the simple fact that Dean kissed Ginny. Didn't almost kiss her. Didn't yank himself off of her and vomit. But kissed her, like a normal boy and a normal girl. He kissed her. That's what boys do when a girl's pretty and funny and nice to be around. When they're kissable. When they're somebody like Ginny.

"When?" Hermione managed to ask.

If possible, Ginny looked even guiltier. "Last night in his dorm room."

"Ginny!" Hermione cried out in astonishment and maybe a tiny bit of envy. She quickly asked in a hushed tone. "What in the world were you doing in his dorm room?"

"It's not like _that_. I was looking for Harry… just to talk, ask him what happened with Adrianna, you know, and Dean found me." Ginny paused and Hermione gave her an expectant look. "I was pulling back the curtain of his bed… How was I supposed to know which one was his? Anyhow, Dean assumed I was looking for him and he cornered me and… kissed me."

"Wow." It was almost romantic in an odd sort of way. Hermione couldn't believe that she was actually jealous of being cornered and kissed in the boys' dorm. It was almost funny. Wouldn't everyone be shocked if they knew? "Do you like him?"

Ginny looked off in the distance, suddenly contemplative. Hermione wondered what the hesitation was. "I don't know, last night it was exciting and _sexy_---"

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, laughing.

She gave a saucy smirk and Hermione couldn't help but grin back, vicariously sharing in her friend's thrill. It would be all the thrills she'd be getting for a while.

"So," Ginny said as if starting the conversation anew. "What do you think about Dean Thomas?"

Hermione sat back, relaxing. What did she think about Dean Thomas? It was a difficult question, as she hadn't spent much time thinking about him at all. "He's nice." she offered.

Ginny's lip twitched. "Nice, huh. That's the best you can do?"

Hermione shrugged and said apologetically, "At least I can't come up with anything negative to say."

Ginny smirked at her and said playfully, "So, what's it like to walk around with blinders on? Not able to see anyone but my brother?"

"I see Harry, as well," Hermione replied in a tiny voice. Though not in the same way. She was too pathetic.

"Hey, Hermione. Just talk to him. He adores you. I know it. He's er…" Ginny tapped her finger lightly and looked up saying softly, "He's here."

Hermione turned to watch Ron shuffle in with wet hair and a downtrodden expression. He was busy rubbing his hair vigorously with a small towel. When he saw Ginny, he paused, mid rub. He looked at his sister with a worried expression.

He was worried about what they were talking about. Oh dear. Hermione had betrayed him to his only sister. He'd be humiliated if he knew. What kind of person was she? She'd never once thought of that. Did that make her a horrible person?

Then Ron's gaze met hers for the briefest second. The rage that had filled his blue eyes before was gone. Now the bright depths were full of despair and…possibly shame. Hermione knew she _was_ a horrible person. She hoped it was shame. Shame meant that Ginny could be right and she might still hold a chance.

Ron shifted his feet, eyes on the ground. When he broke the silence it was to ask, "Ginny, er… could you give me and Hermione a minute alone? Please?"

Hermione swallowed as her anxiety rose. Did he want Ginny gone so that he could let her down gently? She heard his voice in her head. 'I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't know you felt that way. I'm sorry but I can't…'

Ginny was making some excuse as she left. Hermione barely heard her. When she passed her brother, she turned to mouth 'he's embarrassed' and give Hermione an encouraging smile. Ginny slipped out the door.

Hermione was not that easily placated. He may be embarrassed, but of what? That he had touched her?

Once he was sure Ginny was gone, Ron shuffled to her and cautiously sat on the edge of her bed. He kept himself completely turned away from her, focusing his eyes across the room. Great, now he couldn't bear to look at her.

Ron swallowed twice before he seemed able to make words come out. "I...er, Hermione, all right, there?"

A short, hysterical giggle bubbled out of her. All right, indeed. "I'm fine, you?"

He smiled a bitter smile.

Hermione rushed to continue, "I mean, how's your stomach?" The lump was back in her throat.

Ron's eyes squeezed shut. "Still queasy." His hands fisted. "Hermione, I…Did I hurt you? I mean when I attacked---" His voice broke.

"Ron! No! You didn't…" How could he think…? "You didn't attack me!"

"I'm so sorry," Ron said in a hushed voice. He seemed so raw.

Hermione heard herself say, "Don't be sorry, please, not for that… I…" She didn't know what to say. She wanted to make it better. She needed him to be able to look at her again. Words having failed her, she reached out to tentatively touch his hand.

Ron snatched it away making her heart drop, but no sooner had he taken it away then he grabbed her hand back so hard that it hurt. Hermione blew out a puff of air and blinked away tears. Oh, god, she did, she loved him. She was doomed.

Hermione turned her hand in his and laced their fingers. Over the long minutes that followed he seemed to relax almost imperceptibly. Finally, Ron turned to her and said, "So, you have some research I could help you with?"

She smiled. It was a peace offering if ever Hermione had heard one.

* * *

Harry had promised Adrianna that he would go to the Great Hall for dinner. She had been called away to yet another meeting with Dumbledore. It seemed that word had spread and every teacher at Hogwarts wanted to meet her, not to mention the Ministry officials. Famous freaky Potters. The whole lot of them. 

Once he had entered the castle, Harry found that he couldn't make his feet go to the Great Hall. He imagined the rows of students, secretly sneaking glances at him. Imagined Seamus' pointed questions, the Slytherins' malicious glares…and suddenly Harry was wandering about the castle aimlessly.

He wondered what Adrianna and Dumbledore were discussing in their secret meeting. The mere thought of it gave him a bitter taste in his mouth. Harry reckoned Dumbledore hadn't learned his lesson about secrets.

Harry was sure he had walked long enough that dinner was over when he realized he was in the hall to the hospital wing. He paused before going in. He felt this pulling need to share this new experience of family with his best friends, but at the same time he didn't think he could tolerate Hermione's nagging and suspicions. Not to mention the constant bickering.

In the end, Harry entered the infirmary without being aware that he had made the decision to do so. When he strolled into the room Ron was sitting up with a book over his lap. Hermione's bed was covered by curtains and shielded. Ron was reading intently, which was strange. His best mate was spending far too much time alone with Hermione.

Ron smiled when he saw Harry, "Oy, mate."

Harry did his best to return the smile. He sat at the edge of Ron's bed and gestured to Hermione's shielded curtains. "What's going on?"

Ron's smile faded. "Madam Pomfrey's examining Hermione. She wants to make sure she'll be ready to go back to the dorm tomorrow." Ron just looked at Harry for a long moment. He seemed to be considering something. There was a guilty look on his face. It was beginning to make Harry nervous, when finally Ron said, "She had a bit of a strain today."

Harry felt the sharp tug of fear. Nothing more, please. He couldn't handle it if anything more happened to Hermione. He swallowed. "What happened?"

Ron looked as shamefaced as Harry had ever seen him. He confessed softly, "We had the row to end all rows, mate."

Harry let out a sigh of relief. Well, then. Nothing new. He had to close his eyes and shake his head. They _would_ row at a time like this.

Unfortunately, the confession had just begun. "I dunno, mate, she makes me so angry. I mean, how someone who's so brilliant can be so stupid? A silencing charm? A ruddy silencing charm? You and I both know she's an expert at a dozen hexes, but she has to be creative, be a bloody humanitarian."

Ron looked miserable. Only he could get into a fight with Hermione because he _cared_ too much. Ron had a far away expression as he choked out, "I mean she almost died, Harry."

She almost died. Harry knew it and it cut him to the bone. It was his fault, all of it. Looking at Ron now, Harry was struck by how close he came to being the downfall of the two people that mattered most to him in the world. It was clear that Ron wouldn't survive Hermione's death, not intact anyway.

The pull back into self-pity and grief was strong. It took every ounce of energy Harry had to concentrate on Ron. His best friend deserved someone to listen to him, as difficult as it was. "Is that what you rowed about?" he asked, "The Avada---"

"No." Ron interrupted hastily, as if he couldn't bare the words being said aloud. He ran a hand over his face. "That's why I was so upset. We rowed about _everything_ else. I was just so angry. It er… I got a little physical."

Physical? What the hell did _that_ mean, physical? "You didn't hit her!" Harry demanded in disbelief.

"No, no," Ron said vehemently, but softly, as if to counterbalance the volume of Harry's outburst. "She was trying to get up and I thought… She was _going_ to hurt herself. For someone so brilliant, sometimes she just doesn't think." Ron's intensity flared quickly, and then faded just as abruptly. He blushed, looking away. "So, I, um, kinda pinned her to the bed." He refused to meet Harry's eyes.

"Pinned?" Harry repeated dumbly, shocked. Pinned sounded awfully…sexual. Is that what Ron meant? Harry hadn't been expecting _that_. Not now anyway. Oh god, Harry didn't think he could handle it if this conversation was going where he thought it was going. He couldn't lose his best friends now, even if it was to each other.

"It wasn't you know… _that way_," Ron stammered. "All right, it kinda felt _that way_ for a minute." Harry groaned out loud. Ron rushed to finish, "We didn't _do_ anything. _I_ didn't do anything. _Nothing_ happened, except I made a giant arse of myself and hurt her in the process." He rubbed at his eyes. "Then I threw up."

"You did what?" Harry's voice spiked again. Just when he thought he couldn't be more shocked.

"Yeah," Ron stared at the ceiling. "I am such a bloody prat."

Harry blinked, trying to make sense of it all. It didn't help that he hadn't slept in days. Maybe he was just misunderstanding. What Ron was saying didn't make sense, why would he…? He couldn't have…?

Looking at Ron's despondent features, Harry knew he was going to have to enter territory that he had studiously avoided for two years. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice, "Don't you think Hermione's attractive?" There was _no_ good answer to that question.

If it were possible, Ron turned redder. He sat there stammering for a few minutes, before whispering harshly, "Yes, I find her ruddy attractive. Shite, too bloody---"

"Then why?"

"Why what?" Ron looked genuinely confused.

He was so thick sometimes. "What made you sick?"

"I dunno. I was just sick. I hadn't been feeling well since Adrianna mentioned what all those stupid potions were for…" His eyes widened and he met Harry's gaze. "You don't think she thinks…? I mean she wouldn't think that I---"

"That touching her makes you sick to your stomach? Sorry, Mate." Harry was nodding with a grimace on his face. "It's kind of the logical conclusion and being a girl and Hermione---"

"Bloody hell, goddamned bloody hell!" Ron flopped back on his bed with his eyes closed.

Despite everything, Harry almost laughed. Ron had really done it this time. There was something comfortingly familiar about the whole situation.

They both froze as they heard Madam Pomfrey's voice, indicating that the shield had been removed from around Hermione's bed. Ron was flustered. He kept looking around the room like a frightened animal. What was he looking for?

The Healer pulled the curtains away. Ron rushed to straighten himself and look normal. Harry felt a rush of sympathy for his best friend. There was no way he was going to look normal.

When Hermione appeared from behind the curtains she looked at Harry with surprise. She smiled and bit her lip. "Harry, how are you?" she asked in a cautious, nervous voice.

"All right," Harry lied.

"Oh, good." She seemed uncomfortable and kept glancing between him and Ron. "So er… how are things going with your cousin?"

With more than a little trepidation, Harry answered, "All right." What was she about?

"Well, that's good then." Hermione looked down at her hands while she wrung them. "Um, Harry, I just want you to know that I think it's great that you have family here. I mean, she seems…nice. I just… I'm sorry if I came off a bit intense. I just worry about you."

Wow, where'd that come from? Harry stared at her, open mouthed. That was the last thing he expected from Hermione. He glanced at Ron. What had he done to her? Somehow, Harry just knew that Hermione's odd behavior was related to…well, Ron's odd behavior.

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said, when he found his voice. Despite everything he felt a strong wave of affection for her. They shared a soft smile.

Further uncomfortable conversation was avoided when Ginny walked in looking somewhat haggard and holding a large paper bag. She really had fantastic timing. Ginny promptly plopped the bag between Harry and Ron on the bed and threw herself into the chair between the beds.

"Adrianna said you hadn't eaten yet and that I was to bring you that and make you eat," the redhead explained, looking put out. "A bit annoying, really. I have to tell you, Harry. She's extremely bossy and does _not_ know how to mind her own business."

Harry only managed a shrug in response. He opened the bag to find it filled with bread and fried chicken.

"Brilliant!" Ron said, grabbing a chicken leg.

"Ron," Hermione chastised. "You just ate."

"Stomach feeling better, then?" Ginny asked wickedly. Ron blushed bright red and glared at her, but didn't respond.

Harry picked at a piece of bread. "She knew I never came to dinner, then?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Please, she's like Mum, if Mum could read your mind."

Ron shot her a horrified look and shuddered, "Don't even say that out loud."

Ginny grew serious. "She's wicked powerful, Harry. I mean if an Empath went bad---"

"Mmmm," Ron mumbled excitedly, his mouth full of food. He was practically bouncing on his bed as he swallowed impatiently. "That's what this book is about. This Empath goes really bad, like, fantastically evil. Then along with this dark wizard ravages half of Europe, making slaves of the magical world."

Harry frowned and lifted the book to peer at the cover. _The Great Empath Massacre._

Ron continued his story, seemingly having forgotten his Hermione dilemma in his enthusiasm. "Then, they kill this Austrian bloke's wife and children, and this bloke gets this army together and obliterates the Empath and her whole gang."

"Let me see that," Ginny said skeptically, grabbing the book.

"Wait, I haven't got to the best part," Ron said his eyes bright. "His army tears through Europe, killing everyone even remotely related to an Empath, any Empath. Women, children, babies---

"Oh, Ron! The best part?" Hermione exclaimed, clearly horrified.

"---they went through Asia and Africa, destroying everything that has to do with Empathy, books, charms, heirlooms," Ron finished with a proud grin.

"This reads like a cheap novel," Ginny criticized, as she thumbed through the book.

"What? Just 'cause it's fun to read," Ron attempted to snatch the book back. Ginny pulled it toward her, not willing to relinquish it so easily. He and his sister struggled in a tugging contest.

Hermione rolled her eyes at them, saying seriously, "All the books are like that. I think it's the translating spell Adrianna used. Translated it to the same speaking language the caster speaks. That one is the worst, though. Adrianna cast that spell, it's a bit _American_."

Harry grinned, feeling nicely distracted. He realized he hadn't had an extraneous thought throughout the entire exchange. He suddenly had the urge to read these monstrous books. "Can I see that?" he asked the still struggling siblings.

They both paused, looking disappointed, but they turned it over to Harry without argument. Harry guessed this was the upside to pity. He pushed those dark thoughts away as he flipped through the book. It read like an adventure novel, complete with gory, moving pictures.

"Here Ron, you can read this one." Hermione handed him _The Legend and Legacy of the Empath_. "There are plenty of Empaths going crazy and falling off cliffs and the like. You should enjoy it."

Ron pouted. "I want the diary. I bet that's juicy."

"The diary is mine," Hermione said possessively, clutching it to her.

Harry raised his eyebrows at that. "Find something interesting?" He was surprised to find he was anxious when asking the question.

"It's a fascinating read. This girl's father and mother hid in caves for years to escape The Massacre. Poor thing was completely sheltered until she was twelve when she was callously married off and shipped to England. She had only ever felt her family members' emotions, then suddenly she was reading dozens of people."

"Blimey. They're all cheap novels," Ginny ridiculed, slouching in her chair.

"Then you shouldn't mind reading the last one." Hermione handed her _The Lost Art of Empathy_. Ginny frowned but made herself comfortable in her chair and began reading.

Harry smiled to himself as he lounged back at the end of the hospital bed, spreading out his book. After several minutes had passed he looked up at his friends, each engrossed in their own text. Ron occasionally ate from the shared bag of chicken. Harry took a piece for himself.

Definitely a better evening than he had expected.

* * *

Hermione was awoken from her troubled sleep by a terrified voice calling her name. She jerked up, her heart beating wildly, expecting an attack. 

She quickly realized she was in the infirmary. It was just Ron calling out from another nightmare. Hermione squinted her eyes in the darkness. He was tangled in his bedclothes, covered in sweat. He looked much worse then he had in previous nights. Was this just another nightmare or was he sick? He could have a fever, could be delirious.

"No, please…Hermione," Ron moaned, thrashing.

Definitely a nightmare. Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, watching him, contemplating her next move. Last night, Hermione would have gone to him in an instant. She would have soothed his worried brow with her fingers and whispered calming words.

Last night, she was under the apparently mistaken perception that Ron might actually want her touch, that it wouldn't make his flesh crawl. Last night, she was actually deluded enough to think he might care for her.

"Hermione." Ron's head rolled on the pillow and tears came to her eyes. She had to look away.

Snap out of it, Hermione told herself. She was a rational witch. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself and start looking at things logically.

Clearly, Ron _cared_ about her. He was calling out her name in his sleep, for heaven's sake. _That_ wasn't a delusion. And she _knew_ why. He was dreaming of her dead, or dying; rewriting the end of the Department of Mysteries. Yes, he cared for her, but as a friend, maybe even as a sister. Hermione cringed at the thought.

Ron sobbed in his sleep, "God, no."

Yet, what did it matter really? Even if he could never love…care for her like she…_damn it_…_love_ her the way she loved him. She did love him and she wasn't going to stand by and watch him suffer, not out of some fool pride of hers.

Hermione rose unsteadily to her feet. She told herself that she needed to walk sometime. She should have walked before this. Would have, if it wasn't for Ron's over-protectiveness. She couldn't leave tomorrow if she wasn't mobile.

"Please, please. Don't be dead," Ron moaned, spurring her into motion.

It only took three wobbly steps and Hermione collapsed on the side of his bed. Without thought she reached out and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. It was damp with sweat making the red strands even darker. She pressed her trembling palm against his brow, sighing in relief when there was no sign of fever. Hermione almost pressed a kiss where her hand lie. Heavens, she was a masochist.

"You can't leave me," Ron implored.

Hermione voice broke as she reassured him, "No, I'm right here. I'm not leaving."

"Hermione! I need you," he wept.

She knew in that moment that it didn't matter how he felt about her. She would stand beside him until the world ended. All that mattered was that she loved him and he needed her.

Hermione leaned down to his ear and said in a soft, insistent voice. "Ron, I'm here. It's Hermione. I'm not dead." She allowed herself to run her hands freely over his hair and face. It felt wonderful.

"Hermione?" he called more softly. His eyes didn't open, though he relaxed minutely.

"I'm right here."

Sobbing, Ron reached for her. Hermione bit her lip in an effort to force back a strangled cry of her own. She felt herself fall into his grasping arms. He pulled her close and she closed her eyes at the feel of it. She buried her face in his chest, allowing herself a minute.

Then, taking a deep breath, she focused on evening her voice and brought up her face so she could whisper calming things into his ear. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders.

She felt him jerk against her and her hands froze. His head pulled back from her shoulder and Hermione looked up into Ron's piercing blue gaze. She steeled herself for rejection.

"Hermione?" This time when he said her name it was with confusion and disbelief. Of course, it must seem odd to wake up with a girl wrapped around him. It was natural to be a bit off put.

"Um…" she breathed, swallowing. "You were dreaming..." Hermione desperately racked her mind for a way to make him see that she was just there to comfort him. She wasn't throwing herself at him. Not really.

The thought became obsolete as Ron's arms tightened, crushing her against his chest. He pressed his wet face tightly into the space between her neck and shoulder. Hermione could barely make out his muffled words. He seemed to be chanting, "Thank god, thank god."

Hermione felt the nervous tension leave her body, and she gave herself over completely to her need to sooth him. She wrapped her arms more fully around him. His shirt clung, damp, to his back. She grasped at it.

After long moments, she felt the tension in the muscles under her hands lessen. He sighed into her shoulder and she felt his warm breath through her pajama shirt. Finally, she could make out his words out clearly. "Hermione, it was so horrible."

He was going to break her heart, he really was. "It wasn't real. Everything's fine. It was just a dream. Here, now, lie down." Hermione coaxed him to lie back. He fell backwards easily but he wouldn't loosen his grip on her. She was pulled onto his chest.

Hermione tensed, having expected him to let go, but his response was to hug her harder. It was a good thing Madam Pomfrey had finished healing her ribs today. Ron was stronger than he looked.

"Don't leave me," he begged. A lump came to Hermione's throat. She knew he wasn't fully alert or he never would have said something like that. It wasn't like him to show so much vulnerability. It was her final undoing.

"Shhh, love," she whispered, relaxing. "I'm here. I'm staying right here. I'll never leave. Go to sleep. Go to sleep." Even as she said it Hermione realized it was true. She wasn't going to leave, not ever.

Hermione had made a decision. She was going to enjoy whatever she could get from Ron. Pride wasn't going to get in her way. She wasn't going to waste a single opportunity, because it might not come again.

And tonight might be the only night she ever got to sleep in his arms.

* * *

Harry had been standing at the edge of the lake staring beyond the cool surface since before dawn. When the sun came up, he wondered how it got the strength to do that each day. 

He had come to find that mornings were the hardest. No matter what had happened the day before to cheer him, or more accurately distract him, none withstood the harsh morning light, or in this case the fuzzy predawn haze. Not since Sirius had died.

Sirius had died. Sirius was dead. At least, he had gotten to a place were he could think the full thought without breaking apart. Watching the sun rising slowly in the sky, Harry tried to imagine Sirius looking down on him, looking out for him.

It was a lovely fairy-tale Adrianna wove. He could almost believe it when she was sitting next to him. Harry wondered what would happen to him once he was back at the Dursleys. Without anyone to distract him, to make him believe the pretty lies, to convince him that he wasn't responsible for the death of his Godfather, would he ever be able to get out of bed again? Is that what he deserved? Did anyone deserve that?

Yet, Harry had no choice. He had to be _protected_. He was the Order's one weapon against Voldemort. The only one who could kill him and the only price…Harry's soul. Certainly, not a steep price to pay.

"Hey, Broody McBrood." Harry turned to see his cousin jog toward him calling out, "Ginny said you've been out here since dawn."

Instead of responding to her question, he took her presence as a welcome distraction and breathed a sigh of relief. "What are you wearing?" he asked incredulously. Her white workout suit did not belong at Hogwarts.

"Japanese training suit." Adrianna came to a halt in front of him and took in his rumpled appearance. "Strong in body, strong in spirit and mind… Though the first step is eating, which you haven't."

Harry turned back out to the lake. "What's with you and food?"

"What's with you and starvation?" she asked pointedly and smiled, shielding her eyes from the bright morning sunrise. "So, what are we brooding about this lovely morning?"

He smiled grimly, "Oh, just my destiny as a murderer."

"Ah, I see. The whole killing Voldemort thing?" Harry nodded, kicking a rock into the lake. She continued, "And murder and killing are the same?" Another nod followed. Adrianna took a deep breath and she looked out, beyond the lake. "How many men have you killed Harry?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "You mean besides Sirius?"

"Yes, besides Sirius. I'm quite sure he doesn't count."

"Well, then none. How many have you killed?" he asked sarcastically.

"Five." Harry had not been prepared for that answer. She looked at him very seriously. "Do you think I'm evil, Harry?" He gaped at her, suddenly uneasy. "Don't answer that." She smiled ironically. "I've fought some really dark creatures…and men. You can't do that and not kill."

"But how can you live with yourself?" Harry hadn't meant for it to come out as an accusation, but it did.

"There are no moral absolutes, Harry. Sometimes killing is the right thing to do."

It was bizarre standing there, talking about the men she had killed. Adrianna stood, clothed in stark white, looking innocent and serene. He imagined her with blood on her hands and he shuttered.

"Several years ago, when I had recently become an Auror---"

Harry groaned. "Is this where I get my fable, moral and all?"

"Yes, now shush, unless you really don't want to hear it?" Harry stayed quiet. "We were tracking a particularly dark wizard through Eastern Europe. He left a trail of victims behind him, tortured, murdered. We caught up with him in Western Hungry. I was the one to finally capture him. It would have been easier to kill him. I almost lost an arm _and_ a friend in my efforts to capture him alive. It seems so stupid now."

Adrianna blinked up at the sun. "I used to think it was so important to try not to kill. I was very self-righteous, really. Biggest mistake I ever made." Adrianna lost herself in thought for a moment

Harry's stomach clenched as he watched her. He really didn't want to hear the punch-line to this story.

"So, we um…" Adrianna seemed to fortify herself to finish the story. "We turned him over to the local authorities. They were supposed to transport him to the closest wizard prison."

Adrianna looked down and rubbed a temple. "He broke free two weeks later, killed three in the process. It took us months to find him again. When we did it was in this village outside of Prague. It had been…" her breath hissed, "decimated is the only word I can think of. Burning, raping, slaughter, bodies of children…" she trailed off, cringing.

"Your stories aren't much fun," Harry whispered softly.

"I never regretted anything like I regret _not _killing that man. I still feel responsible for every death that followed his escaping." Adrianna swallowed. "When we had caught up with him, he laughed at me, said he'd escape again in a minute. I killed him instantly. Cutting spell to the throat. _That_ I never regretted."

Harry gulped through the lump in his throat.

Adrianna finally turned and looked at him. She had her arms tightly crossed. "People like us Harry, we don't have the luxury of moral absolutes."

Harry turned his face away. "What if I don't want to be people like us?"

"Ignoring destiny never turns out well. Harry, I know a lot of heroes. Most of them have killed at one time or another. I've seen their souls and their souls are beautiful."

Harry laughed and sniffed. He shouldn't feel unburdened by such a horrible tale. "Adrianna?"

She hummed in reply.

"When I'm at the Dursleys will you come and tell me horrible stories?" Harry wished he didn't sound so vulnerable.

She looked out to the lake again and clenched her jaw. "The Dursleys," she said bitterly. "I'm not sure that will be necessary. We'll see."

Harry felt a rush of hope, but pushed it aside. She couldn't mean that she could keep him from going back there?

As he watched, Adrianna pulled herself out of her reflection and smiled at him. "Come on. Your friends are throwing a party for Ron and Hermione, and I promised Ginny you'd be there."

* * *

Thank you to RedMoonChick, kjcp, JenB, and Texasmagic. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of April, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_, and is rated R.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Eight****

* * *

**

Most of Gryffindor showed up for Ron and Hermione's surprise welcome home party. Dobby provided large piles of breakfast and lunch foods, pastries, sweets, and dozens of bottles of Butterbeer. It was just the sort of attention that Ron loved. Usually.

Today, he wasn't exactly in the mood for a celebration. Harry was nowhere to be found. And Hermione… Ron seemed to be having trouble forming even the simplest of words in her presence. Actually, he was having trouble speaking at all, which didn't exactly make him the life of the party.

Ron hid himself among a throng of laughing blokes, trying not to be _too_ obvious about the fact that he was staring at Hermione. Ever since he had woken up this morning with her wrapped in his arms Ron hadn't been able to think of anything but her. Now, as she sat across the room, he wasn't able to _look_ at anything but her.

It wasn't just _Hermione_ he couldn't get off his mind. _That_ Ron could deal with. The problem was, he had become completely fixated on her _body_. His mind was tormented with memories. The feel of her bushy curls against his chin and neck, her thigh wedged between his, her amazingly soft breasts pressing against his arm.

Her breasts. Ron could honestly say, that in the past he had managed to spend very little time thinking about Hermione's breasts. It might have taken monumental effort not to, but that wasn't the point. The point was, that now, he was obsessed with them. He was constantly dragging his eyes away from them. His hands itched to touch them.

Which was just _great_. Hermione was going to kill him. Ron would deserve it too. He was treating his best mate like the animal he was.

The thing that got him, though, was that she wasn't treating him like that…like an animal. Last night, she had been warm and giving and wonderful and so incredibly forgiving. There was nothing about him that deserved her. Hermione should be livid with him, not softly concerned.

Though, it did seem that something was wrong. She seemed more... shy maybe, embarrassed, even a little sad. Was Harry right? Was she thinking that touching her had made him sick to his stomach? That he found her repulsive? Ron had trouble thinking someone a smart as Hermione would think that. The idea was laughable. Maybe it was just the madness that had overcome him today, but Ron couldn't imagine anyone being more beautiful.

His eyes traveled her form. Hermione was sitting with Ginny, talking privately in the window seat. She was wearing a simple Muggle t-shirt and jeans. It showed every amazing curve. The arch of her shoulder, her supple breasts, the dip of her belly that peeked at him under---

"Ron, mate, you awake?"

"Huh?" He blushed, looking up to see Seamus addressing him. Dean, Neville, and several fourth and sixth year Gryffindors were all looking at him expectantly. Shite. Did they notice that he had just been staring at Hermione? Ron realized that he had a Butterbeer in his hand and took a long swig while he tried to calm himself.

"I asked you if you were ever going to tell us where you got those wicked scars," Seamus repeated eagerly.

Bloody hell, didn't one of them have a lick of sense? Why the hell would he want to talk about that? "I really don't remember much, I was cursed and all. Neville knows the story better."

Neville blushed. "You tell it Ron, you tell great stories."

It was true. Ron loved telling a good story. He loved the feel of all eyes on him, hanging on his every word. He had learned just how to weave a tale over the years, for maximum effect.

"Nah," Ron shook his head. "You go ahead. You'll tell it better," he encouraged. He was infinitely grateful when Neville finally started to haltingly tell the story, distracting all the prying eyes away from him. He hoped his friend would have the sense to leave most of the details out.

Now, where was he? Right, he was about to indulge in an incredibly inappropriate fantasy about his best friend. Ron was going to imagine what it would have been like to have kissed Hermione yesterday. He pushed away the nagging thought that it would have been wrong, instead…

Ron would have leaned down, just a bit. They had been so close. He could still feel her amazing breasts crushed up against his chest. He would have just needed to drop his head an inch. At first, he would have brushed her lips lightly with his. Then, he would have pulled back to meet her eyes, just to make sure it was all ok. Instead of the revulsion he feared, her beautiful brown eyes would have been warm and welcoming and full of desire. For him.

Next, Hermione would put those small, strong hands in his hair and draw him back down. This time she'd kiss him back, her soft lips sucking, biting… Blimey, would she open her lips and let him in? Would she let him taste the inside of her mouth? Would she let Ron touch her? Run his hands over the breasts that he couldn't get out of his mind?

The answer to those questions was obvious. No. No, she wouldn't let him touch and kiss her that way. And if she did, then she shouldn't, because she didn't deserve a quick snog and if it were to be more…like a relationship….

Damn, being in a relationship with Hermione. The thought made it hard to breathe. Is that what Ron wanted? It was a terrifying thought. It would be so intense. He didn't think he was mature enough for a relationship like that. Especially not with Hermione.

He'd just end up disappointing her. How could he not? And after that, he would lose her and there was one thing he knew for certain. Ron couldn't live without Hermione. He slumped farther into the chair. Now, he was depressed.

Where the hell was Harry? You would think he could at least make an appearance at his best mates' party.

Neville's story drifted to him. Thankfully, he was leaving out most of the details, but still it was a bloody dismal tale. The more Ron listened, the more he was convinced that the story was going to drive him barking. He was hanging on by a thread as it was.

Two figures climbing through the portrait hole caught his eye. Ron sighed with relief. "Oy, Neville, that's enough, mate." Ron gestured toward Harry and his cousin with a sharp jerk of his head. Neville flushed, understanding. There would be no more stories.

Ron looked over Harry. He seemed to be frowning and looking around in a daze. His cousin pointed at Ron and dragged him over. She pushed him into the sofa opposite Ron. Kicking off her shoes, she climbed onto the sofa and sat behind him. Harry seemed grateful that she took charge.

"Sorry, we're late," Adrianna said. She poked Harry, probably to get him to apologize as well. He didn't.

Instead Harry asked, "What's going on with Hermione and Ginny?"

Ron shrugged. They were most likely sharing the moment of his greatest humiliation and talking about what a prat he was. "Girl stuff?"

Harry gave him a sympathetic look and Ron was glad that he had finally shown. Especially since…Oh shite, the girls were coming over. Now what the hell was he supposed to do?

Ginny took the seat next to Harry on the sofa and… Bloody hell. Hermione squeezed next to Ron. Shite, oh god.

She was leaning forward asking Harry how he was feeling…or something. Ron had lost all ability to form language, or understand it apparently. Hermione's leg was pressed up against his, like it had been a thousand times before, but now... now all he could focus on is the powerful sensations originating in that one spot.

She was touching him. Hermione was touching him. Ron should have known something like this was going to happen. He should have listened to his instincts and gone on avoiding her touch. Now the flood gates were open and she was driving him mad.

A loud, "Whoa!" jerked Ron back to reality. He tried to shift away from Hermione to clear his head. There wasn't much room to shift. When he glanced at her he instantly regretted his move. He saw hurt on her face. He had insulted her. How could he make her understand that he simultaneously craved her touch and hated it? He didn't even understand. It was completely daft.

"Er…" Ron stammered, not sure what to say to make it right again. He looked around at his fellow Gryffindors. Had something just happened? "Um, what's going on?"

Hermione's expression turned from wounded to concerned. "Adrianna just… Are you all right, Ron? You seem really out of it?"

Out of it? He was out of his mind was what he was. Why was she leaning closer? He began to breathe faster. Oh god, Hermione was touching his forehead, checking for a fever. It never felt like _that_ when his mum did it. It never burned. Maybe he _was_ delirious. That would explain a few things.

"I'm fine," Ron choked, trying not to pull away from her but unable to stop himself.

Fortunately, Hermione became distracted, turning the painful intensity of her gaze away from him. Ron tried to follow the action around him. Through the fog, he realized that Seamus had a bottle of Firewhiskey. In front of Hermione? How thick can he be? Not even Ron was that daft. Or brave.

"Seamus Finnegan, what do you think you are doing with that?" Hermione demanded. Fury radiated from her. Shite, she looked good when she was angry.

Seamus scowled at her, pulling the bottle back. _Now_ he realized his mistake. A little late. Hermione was going to flay him alive. "Drinking it. Having Fun," the Irishman shot back mockingly. Ron would have shook is head if he'd had the energy. _So_ Stupid.

"Not any more you're not. Hand it over!" Hermione held out her hand and tapped her foot. She looked like McGonagall. God help him, she looked adorable. What did that say about Ron? He grimaced.

"Why should I?" Seamus argued, digging himself deeper and deeper. Maybe he was just drunk, Ron had never seen his dorm mate act so recklessly. The Irishman held the bottle where Hermione's five-foot three-inch frame couldn't reach. Didn't he realize she could still hex him?

"You _will_ give it to me, because I'm a prefect and if you don't you'll spend your last three nights at school in detention."

Ah, so that was the mode of attack Hermione was going with. Ron would have preferred the hexing or punching strategy, much sexier. God, he was a pervert.

Seamus scowled at her and slapped the bottle into her hand. "You are such a bloody prude, Hermione."

Ouch! Now he was definitely going to get hexed…or punched. But Hermione did neither. She maintained her calm, huffing off to the stairs.

"Hey, where are you bringing that?" Seamus demanded. Apparently, he hadn't learned his lesson.

Ron was hoping he'd goad her good. He was somehow itching for a battle. He didn't have the strength for one himself. Besides, the idea of Hermione being even angrier at him right now made him ill.

"To throw it down the girls' toilet," Hermione responded primly and flounced away, as if embracing her prude label and flaunting it. Ron noticed the way her hips swayed when she flounced. Blimey, he lusted after a prude…prim, proper, perfect. It only made him hotter.

"I can't believe her," Seamus griped, angrily.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Well, it wasn't very smart to pull that out in front of her."

Dean chimed in, "You know how she is, mate."

"Yeah, a goody-goody, a prudish old-maid, a cold-fish. She wouldn't know a good time if it bit her in the arse."

Ron felt a strange combination of anger, indignation, and embarrassment. Hermione was straight-laced, but Seamus was taking it too far and the last thing she was cold. Shite, if he defended her, would they all know he how he felt about her? How _did_ he feel about her?

The Irishman was on a roll. He slurred a bit when he said, "Can you imagine anyone wanting to kiss her? It would be like kissing ice!"

_That_ was enough for Ron, now he was going to have to pummel the prat. Ice his arse---

Adrianna laughed, "You are kidding, right? Hermione?" Confusion and curiosity brought Ron's eyes to the Empath.

"She is rather prissy," Harry said to his cousin. Was he defending Hermione or Seamus? Adrianna looked at him as if he had no sense at all.

"It's just," Neville chimed in to explain. "She's not like other girls. She's not passionate---"

Adrianna's loud incredulous laugh reverberated through the room. "Not passionate? What are you talking about? How long have you known her? Have you even _met_ her?" She looked at Ginny, seemingly expecting Ron's sister to agree with her.

Ginny shrugged. "They don't get it. They're only boys." As if that explained everything. Ron wondered if he should be insulted.

Adrianna slid down from her perch on the sofa and sat between Harry and Ginny. She rubbed her hand on her forehead, shaking her head with frustration. "Ok, I'm going to give you boys a tiny, but much needed, lesson in women and passion."

Every bloke in hearing distance perked up and came closer. Ginny gave a sound of disgust and leaned back into the sofa, away from them.

"Passion is the capability for intense emotions," Adrianna began, as if giving an important lecture. "When someone is passionate about something or someone, a guy for example, they focus all of that energy on them. That display, with Hermione, _that_ was passion."

The Gryffindor men looked skeptical, but Ron had a sudden image of Hermione pushing him against the wall, crushing her lips to his, thrusting her tongue into his mouth…

"Seamus, did you see that spark, that fire in her eye when she demanded your Firewhiskey? That fire is in her soul, right under the surface."

Ron turned fantasy Hermione and lifted her against the wall, as he tore off her shirt. Her skin burned him.

"That intensity that she directs toward being a prefect, or getting good grades, that's passion."

He imagined her studying him like one of her books. She would pull off each piece of his clothing slowly, examining him, running her hands over him, reverently.

"She's also the kind of girl that thinks for herself. She only enforces the rules that she believes in. The rest, she shreds as suits her."

The scene changed, Ron and Hermione were in the Transfiguration classroom. She was clad only in knickers, sitting on a desk, kissing him, and clutching at him vigorously. Oh god.

"You boys really need to learn to look below the surface."

Ron's image of removing Hermione's knickers with his teeth was interrupted by a flurry of bodies as they backed away from the tight circle. He looked up to see Hermione walking down the stairs, a look of suspicion on her face. Six blokes stared at her with new appreciation. Only Harry had the grace not to drool. Ron's hand flew to his face. Was _he_ drooling?

"This is your bag, isn't it Ron?"

He turned slowly, realizing that Adrianna was addressing him. Ron stared at her in confusion as she placed the bag he had brought back from the infirmary in his lap. She then turned her attention away from him as if it were nothing.

He flushed even darker as comprehension dawned. She knows. She read his thoughts… Ron clutched the bag to him to hide the evidence of his arousal from the rest of the room. It was just in time, as Hermione was crouching in front of him, looking into his eyes. Oh god.

"Ron, are you sure you're all right? Your eyes are all glazed over and feverish. Are you sick?" She took his head in both of her hands. It felt so _good_. "You feel warm… and sweaty."

Sweaty? Sweaty Hermione… He _was_ sick. A sick, sick puppy.

"Ron you should go upstairs and rest. You've had too much excitement," Adrianna told him in a commanding tone, wrestling his attention away from Hermione.

He nodded gratefully and staggered to his feet. Ron couldn't string two words together, so he grunted at Hermione as he passed her, on his way to the stairs. He was careful to hold the bag in front of him.

Halfway up the stairs, he looked back and saw Hermione staring after him with concern. He had a flashback to the classroom fantasy and he walked more quickly up the steps. What Ron needed was a shower…and a really really cold shower.

* * *

Hermione leaned against the common room window. She had been there practically since the beginning of the party, the party _supposedly_ in her honor. But instead of celebrating she was listening to Ginny tell her about the information she had gathered on Adrianna the day before. 

Hermione eyes unwittingly wandered across the room to Ron's form, hunched in a comfortable chair, surrounded by rowdy Gryffindors.

"He's staring at you, you know."

Her eyes jerked back to Ginny. Hermione smiled forlornly and shook her head. "No, he's just staring." She looked him over, feeling confident that he wasn't seeing her. "He's actually rather dazed. I'm a little worried. He's been glassy-eyed and out of it all day."

"Dazed with lust for you," Ginny drawled melodramatically, then giggled at Hermione's obvious discomfort. "Seriously, he's been checking you out."

Hermione really needed Ginny to stop giving her false hope. It was making her heart ache. Ron had been distracted and distant since they had woken up together that morning. He had merely blushed and stammered when she woke and mumbled an apology, scrambling back to her own bed before Madam Pomfrey could arrive. He hadn't mentioned it since. He hadn't said much of anything since. Not to her anyway.

It wasn't a good sign. Looking at him now, Hermione worried that he might be seriously distressed that they had slept together…slept in the same bed, that is.

Maybe he felt that she had taken advantage of him or maybe the idea of being so intimate with her had left him mortified. _That_ or he his health was regressing. Hermione didn't know which possibility upset her more. Actually she did, and she didn't like the kind of person that made her.

Desperate for a diversion, Hermione asked, "So, what was that thing with Snape?"

"Shirty, aren't you?" Ginny rolled her eyes. Hermione wondered if she'd be so flippant if she understood how dismal the situation was. "I didn't get a chance to ask Adrianna about it. She up and left to go find Harry. You can ask her yourself, though. I ran into her this morning and she said she'd bring Harry to the party. Actually, I think she said 'haul his ass,'" Ginny said the last part in a reasonable imitation of an American accent and broke off laughing.

Hermione cracked a small distracted smile as she scanned the room. This time she managed to not linger on the object of her affection. The party had been going on for quite a while now. Adrianna certainly hadn't done a good job 'hauling' anyone. She thought of how disappointed Ron must be that Harry wasn't there. "Is she really the best person to ask?"

"Hermione," Ginny said with a sad but resolute expression. "She's the only one who can find him these days. Not to mention, make him _do _anything."

The older girl frowned deeply. That was the _last_ thing she wanted to hear. "These days? She's only been here for three."

This Adrianna thing was already spiraling out of control. Harry was far too vulnerable. Somehow, Hermione was going to have to get her mind off the boy whose bed she shared last night….oh heavens, had he smelled good this morning….and back to more important matters. If she didn't do something soon… She didn't want to think of what the Empath could do to Harry.

"Yeah, I know. She better be for real or I'm personally hexing her to next Tuesday." Ginny grinned cheekily, but the older girl knew that fear was not far from the surface.

"Oh, thank heavens." Hermione placed a hand on Ginny's knee. "There they are, climbing in now." She watched Adrianna guide Harry into the room and over to the sofa across from Ron. Harry looked drawn and pale…thin. "You haven't seen him in the Great Hall at all?"

Ginny shrugged. "I dragged him there myself yesterday morning, not that he ate much. Otherwise, no. I haven't even seen him talk to anybody but us…and Adrianna."

Adrianna had perched herself above Harry on the sofa. It looked very relaxed and casual, but Hermione could tell from the position she could see most of the room. She was wearing what amounted to white pajamas and her hair was in a long black ponytail. She looked like she had just come back from a yoga class, but to Hermione she looked like his samurai bodyguard.

"Come on, let's go." Hermione and her friend made their way over to where the others were sitting. Ginny took the seat next to Harry on the sofa. Probably to guard Harry from his bodyguard, if Hermione knew her friend at all.

There was plenty of room on Ron's big chair. Forcibly pushing away her reservations, Hermione squeezed in next to him. She was determined to act normal. She couldn't go acting shirty with Ron now. It would only raise his suspicions higher. The last thing she needed right now was him realizing just how much she fancied him _and_ how much it was hurting her that he didn't fancy her.

She sat pressed up next to him, as she had a hundred times before. Why did it feel so different? Hermione swallowed and forced herself to concentrate on Harry. "All right, Harry?" she asked earnestly.

Harry gave her a panicked face and muttered, "Er... all right."

Hermione immediately recognized her mistake. Fortunately, so had Ginny, who quickly offered a distraction, asking, "Harry, want a Butterbeer?" She was already leaning over the coffee table and trying to find a full bottle. Hermione was grateful for the Weasley capacity for subtlety and diplomacy, for it was something she often lacked. What would she do without Ron to keep her from barreling forward?

"You're out of luck, mate." Seamus grabbed a bottle of the table. "This is the last one."

Ginny frowned, seizing the bottle out of his hand and saying with exaggerated sweetness, "So nice of you to save it for us."

"Hey, give that over." Seamus lunged for the bottle as Ginny held it out of his way.

"Not a problem." Adrianna lifted the Butterbeer out of Ginny's hand. "_Entire Bacchetta_." She snapped the fingers of the other hand and her wand appeared in it.

Hermione's heart raced. Did she just Apparate her wand? Without a wand?

"Who are you?" Dean asked, awe in his voice.

Wasn't that just the question of the hour? Harry made introductions as Hermione watched Adrianna carefully. The witch placed the bottle on the table and waved her wand, "_Duplisis_." The younger girl's stomach clenched as she watched the bottle double and double, until sixteen bottles sat on the table.

"Whoa!" Seamus exclaimed, taking a bottle and chugging it. "It's good."

"Same as the original," Adrianna said, as if they should all know. As if it was the most common magic in the world.

Hermione felt Ron jerk and pull away from her. She felt an instinctive pang of hurt. Was she _that_ repulsive? "Um, what's going on?" he asked, looking around.

Her brow furrowed. Ron was flushed. He must really not be feeling well. "Adrianna just… Are you all right, Ron? You seem really out of it?" Concern overcame self-preservation and she placed a hand on his forehead. He _was_ warm.

Ron jerked away, making Hermione regret the rash way she had touched him. "I'm fine," He snapped.

He was _not_ fine. He had better not be allowing his discomfort over her attraction to him affect his health. Hermione was just about to tell him so, when her attention was diverted by Seamus pulling out a bottle of…

Firewhiskey. _Firewhiskey_. What the hell did he think he was doing? And right in front of her and Ron. At _their_ party. Did no one have any respect for their position as prefects?

"Hey, could you double this for me?" Seamus asked Adrianna.

"Yeah and how old are you?" the Empath laughed.

Hermione was not about to let that woman address the issue. That was_ her _job. "Seamus Finnegan, what do you think you are doing with that?" she demanded.

The pompous prat pulled the bottle back. "Drinking it. Having Fun."

As if he was the only one who knew how to have fun. Hermione knew how to have fun. Sometimes. In her own way. "Not any more you're not. Hand it over!" She held out her hand.

"Why should I?" Seamus held it up in the air, out of her reach.

It was a cheap shot, using her height against her. Did he think she was going to reach for it like an idiot? Hermione was going to hex his arse back to Ireland if he kept this up. As _unfun_ as it was, she took her position as prefect seriously. "You will give it to me, because I am a prefect, and if you don't, you'll spend your last three nights at school in detention."

Seamus angrily slapped the bottle into her hand. "You are such a bloody prude, Hermione."

Prude! Prude! She was not…. She'd… Hermione turned, her head held high, and made for the stairs before she lost her last bit of self-control and _did_ hex him. That or burst into tears. She wished Ron wasn't listening to this. Though, he probably agreed. He certainly wasn't defending her.

"Hey, where are you bringing that?" Seamus screamed after her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She was going upstairs to get _drunk_, what did he think she was doing? How thick could you get? "To throw it down the girls' toilet."

She was fuming as she stomped up the stairs to the girls' dorm. But try as she did to focus on the anger, the hurt kept coming through. This is what they thought of her. They thought she was a prude, no different than a professor, barely a girl. Certainly not capable of enjoying herself.

Why would anyone want _her_ as a girlfriend? They probably thought she'd do nothing but nag and order them around. Probably thought she wasn't even interested in kissing. Well, she _was_. Hermione wanted a good snog as much as anyone. Though at this rate, she was never going to get one.

Hermione paused at the entrance to the girls' lavatory and looked down at the bottle in her hand. Her hand clenched around it, involuntarily. She had the sudden, frightening urge to drink. It was absurd. She would be throwing away everything being a prefect meant to her, just because of something _Seamus Finnegan_ said. Did she really think that would make Ron fancy her more?

On the other hand, just because she was a prefect and couldn't allow drinking in the dormitory, didn't mean…that it was _never_ ok. Hermione wasn't a prefect during summer break for example. She was curious just like anyone. She wanted to have fun. She could be down right adventurous if she wanted to be. On occasion.

Feeling liberated and quite proud of herself, Hermione snuck into her dorm room. She placed a cloaking spell on the bottle, making it appear to be a notebook, and hid it on the bottom of her trunk. Right next to her day planner. Prude, indeed. Take _that_ Seamus Finnegan! Not that he'd ever know it was there. Anyway, it made _her_ feel better.

Her confidence wavered as she descended the stairs back to the common room and felt all eyes on her. Well, not all…but the group gathered around Harry and Ron. They had clearly been talking about her. Hermione cringed, thinking about what they may have said.

She took a deep breath, determined not to let anyone see her flustered. Chin up. Hermione made her way down the rest of the stairs. Prude or not, at least she had her dignity. The blokes dispersed in a futile attempt to appear as if they _hadn't_ been gossiping like a bunch of old maids, laughing at her.

Hermione got a better look at Ron. He looked positively dreadful. Now, she was really concerned. This was almost certainly a reaction to the brains. Madam Pomfrey shouldn't have allowed him out of the infirmary.

Ron didn't even seem to see her as she made her way toward him. _This_ was more than a little embarrassment. Hermione crouched in front of him, looking into his eyes. The bright blue depths seemed cloudy. "Ron, are you sure you're all right? Your eyes are all glazed over and feverish. Are you sick?"

Hermione reached out to cup his clammy cheeks with her hands. This wasn't good. "You feel warm…and sweaty." She needed to take him back to the hospital. The brains could have affected his metabolism or they---

Adrianna spoke before she had a chance. "Ron, you should go up stairs and rest. You've had too much excitement."

Hermione tensed as fury welled up in her. How dare she! That…that…really annoying woman! Bossing about Harry was one thing, but Ron. Ron was hers. Before Hermione could tell Adrianna exactly what she could do with her unsolicited 'concern.' Ron was nodding and pushing past her, mumbling something incomprehensible.

She watched open mouthed as he ascended the stairs. God, Hermione hated that Empath. This was _her_ business. Ron could be seriously, mortally ill. "I should go upstairs and check on him," she said, standing.

Then _she_ had the nerve to say, "He just needs some rest." Adrianna wasn't at _all_ concerned.

Well, _Hermione_ was concerned. "I need---"

"That's not a good idea," the bossy, doesn't-know-how-to-stay-out-of-other-people's-business witch said. Then Hermione realized. Adrianna had read Ron's emotions. She knew he was repulsed by her and that he needed to get away.

"That's really not it," Adrianna stated calmly.

Now she was responding to Hermione's thoughts, which ticked her off to no end. Fire flashed in the teenagers' eyes. She locked them with Adrianna's. "Who do you think---?"

"Blimey," Harry interrupted, wonder in his voice. "You're right."

Adrianna had the nerve to smile, "Of course I'm right."

Hermione heard a muffled giggle from Ginny and rounded on her. "What?" she demanded.

Ginny didn't flinch. "Oh, nothing. It's nothing." She was lying. Of that, Hermione was certain. She wasn't even trying to hide it with that grin of hers.

"You were talking about me," Hermione bit out. It was a statement of fact. She turned her hot gaze to Harry, who withered and shook his head rapidly. Adrianna just shrugged. Everyone else in hearing distance moved even farther away.

Hermione took a deep breath. Carefully, she gathered the hurt, the worry, and the desperation, and focused it on beautiful fury. She looked between her friends and tried to decide exactly where she was going to start her angry tirade.

A clanking noise moved all attention to Adrianna's wrist. The older woman moved back her sleeve to reveal a charm bracelet heavy with medallions. One such charm was whirling wildly, hitting into the other coins and talisman. The Empath was very serious when she grabbed the medallion. Peering at it closely, she finally rubbed it so it stopped spinning.

Adrianna looked up at Harry. "It's the MIA. I've got to take care of this." She placed a hand on his shoulder as she walked past him. Harry looked panicked at the prospect of her leaving and she paused. "You three should go get some air. It's awfully…_stuffy_ in here." She turned her gaze to Hermione. "I'm sure Ron would appreciate a visit _after_ he's rested."

The woman's gall knew no boundaries. If she thought she could dictate to Hermione---

But catching Harry's relieved expression, Ginny had already agreed to the plan. "Sure, that sounds great, right Harry?" He nodded, gratitude clear in his expression.

"Good," his cousin nodded, heading for he portrait hole.

Hermione watched her go, bile rising. She really, really disliked that woman. She didn't care how many books she owned.

* * *

Ron was sitting on the hard floor, clasping Hermione's cold limp body against him. He forced his mouth open to scream and instead, a rush of air came in. His eyes snapped open. Instead of the fogy halls of the Department of Mysteries Ron saw the familiar burgundy of the velvet drapery surrounding his dormitory bed. It _should_ have been comforting. 

But even thought this wasn't the first time Ron awoke gasping from the image of holding Hermione's lifeless form. _This_ time, he couldn't roll over and touch her. This time, there were only the cold sheets and the filtering moonlight and the still forms of his dorm mates just beyond the curtains.

Ron sat up, needing to put distance between him and the sleep that brought on the nightmare. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. He needed her. He needed to touch her. He needed to know she was all right. He needed it now. God damn it!

Yet, when Hermione was with him, Ron couldn't stand it. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't think. In less than two days, he had gone from mildly preoccupied to completely obsessed. She filled his every waking hour…well, not _just_ waking.

He wasn't even making sense any more. He'd be in the loony bin by the end of the summer, just from the strain of not seeing her.

Ron wondered if there was anyway to get into her dorm. Maybe he could run to the Owlery and send Hermione a message to meet him in the common room…

Ugh! This was crazy. Meet her downstairs? He couldn't even be alone with her anymore. If he met her downstairs then Hermione would be wearing a thin nightgown and her hair would be all wild from sleep… Ron'd do something stupid. He'd just have to touch her and then he wouldn't be able to stop and then…then he'd ruin everything.

Just like he almost ruined things today…yesterday. What time was it exactly? After he left the common room, Ron had taken a cold shower, but the cold had done nothing to relieve the ache. In the end, he just gave up and had himself a nice wank.

Well, not just a _nice_ wank. Imagining his best friend naked and wet, pushed up against the shower wall, Ron had the best bloody wank of his life. He was a pervert. It was official.

Yet, when he went back to his dormitory and lay down on his bed, Ron finally felt sane. His thoughts were clear. He had thrown himself across his bed and pulled out that lovely massacre book. It had been such a relief to let the stories of blood and mayhem wash his mind of Hermione.

It was working brilliantly, until she came up to make sure Ron was all right. Why did she have to be so damn caring? Didn't she know she was driving him mental?

Hermione had sat on the edge of his bed, _his_ bloody bed. Home of adolescent fantasies. _Dirty_ adolescent fantasies. She had looked so innocent, so concerned, and so god damned beautiful that Ron couldn't stand it. He knew that he had to touch her. He knew he was going to pull her down onto his bed and pin her there like the animal he was and crush her lips to his and…

He had jumped out of bed like it had caught fire. Ron saw that Hermione was hurt and confused. He tried to cover it up with saying he needed some fresh air. He even asked her to go outside with him. It didn't matter. It didn't lessen pain in her warm brown eyes.

What was it he should he have done? Ron didn't have a choice. He had to get her out of there. Away from the place where he slept and dreamed and god damn wanked! They needed to be around witnesses for god's sake. If she didn't want to be ravaged then they needed a… a barrier.

_If_ she didn't want… That was the rub. The problem was that hurt on her face. That _could_ mean that Hermione _did_ want him. Maybe not to ravage her, but maybe to kiss her. Bloody hell. What if she wanted him to kiss her? Did that mean he should? Even if she wanted him now, how long could it last? Where would it go?

On and on the questions went. One thought after another, chasing its own tail. Confusion was the only thing that he felt that made any bleeding sense. In the end, all he felt was fear. Fear that he'd end up alone and miserable, alienated from Hermione forever.

So trying to see Hermione was out, then. Ron was stuck in this oppressive bed, his thoughts racing, knowing that when he eventually fell asleep, the nightmares would begin all over again. He didn't think he could stand it. Ron was suffocating in this velvet prison.

With more energy than anyone should have at this hour of the morning he climbed out of bed, intent on taking yet another shower. It had worked this afternoon to relax him. Ron wondered what his mother would think when he came home and started taking showers every few hours. He'd cause a bloody draught by the end of the summer.

He emerged from behind the curtains, expecting to find a still and empty room, his dorm mates safely tucked away, their prying eyes hidden from Ron's shame. He froze as his eyes came upon Harry sitting on the wide window ledge, his knees drawn up, and his forehead against the pane.

Harry stiffened at the sight of him and for a moment they just stared at one another, each having been caught vulnerable in the dead of night. They had nothing to be ashamed of, yet they both were.

Finally, Harry sighed, breaking the stare. He turned his eyes back to the grounds below. When he spoke it was in the quiet tone of someone too tired to bother with embarrassment for long. "What are you doing up?"

Oh, Ron was going to the loo to wank off thinking about his best mate. But don't worry, it wasn't Harry. No, it was the _other_ best mate. That wouldn't bother him, would it?

Ron swallowed. "Couldn't sleep. You?"

Harry smiled a bitter smile. "Same."

Ron felt himself drawn to the window and he sat with his back against the glass, staring out at the quiet room. The humiliation faded and he began to feel comforted by Harry's presence. It had been a long time since it was just the two of them.

After a long silence Ron asked, "Nightmares?"

Harry gave a short bitter laugh. "I didn't get that far."

Ron echoed his wry chuckle, looking down. "You're lucky."

A beat of silence followed. "What are yours about?"

Ron took a deep breath. Did he really want to tell? "Hermione."

"The vomit thing?" Harry asked in a much lighter tone.

He looked up to see a small smile on Harry's face. Ron blushed and smiled back. The smile only lasted a moment. "No, the _Avada Kadavra_ thing."

A sharp hissing breath came from Harry and they lapsed into their longest silence yet. Ron turned his head and studied his friend. Misery tainted Harry's every feature. His best friend caught him looking. He met his gaze with a strange intensity.

"I can still see it," Harry said. His voice had a rock-hard edge to it. "His lips moving without words, then a streak of blue and she crumpled. Just collapsed on the floor. I was sure she was dead. One of the worst moments of my life," Harry said the last in a whisper and turned his eyes back out to the grounds. "And that's saying something."

Ron had to close his eyes against the image Harry had created. They stung with threatened tears. He bit them back, finding anger instead. "Why did she have to use that god damned silencing spell?"

"She…" Harry sighed softly, shaking his head. "He was trying to call for the other Death Eaters. That's why she silenced him. She wasn't trying to block the spell, it was just a coincidence."

Ron gritted his teeth, taking in the new information. He shook his head sharply. "She still should have stupefied him."

Again Harry laughed _that_ laugh. The bitterness was harsher this time. "She should have stupefied him. I should have stupefied him. We shouldn't have been there in the first place." He paused seeming to struggle for control, closing his eyes tightly. When he opened them he met Ron's gaze directly. "If it's anyone's fault, it's mine."

Ron shook his head rapidly, guilt coming over him. He shouldn't be taking to him about this. Of course, Harry would blame himself. Ron hadn't meant to make him feel worse. "It's not your---"

Harry cut him off sharply, "Then whose is it?"

"The Death Eater's. The one who cursed her," Ron said quickly, realizing it was true only after the words were out.

Harry's gaze turned below again. Ron watched his jaw work, watched shame and self-recrimination turn to rage. Harry nodded. "Dolohov."

Ron sucked in his breath. "He was the one?"

"I can still see his twisted ugly face."

Fury consumed Ron, it's presence cleansing. "If I ever get my hands…" he trailed off as Harry's head turned sharply and their eyes met with an angry ferocity. In that moment, their fellowship had never been stronger.

Harry gave a sharp nod. If Ron didn't know better, he would have sworn the two friends had just made a pact to kill the Death Eater on sight.

* * *

After about two hours of staring at her canopy, Hermione had moved to sitting on her window ledge, staring out at the Hogwarts grounds. It amazed her that after only one week she couldn't sleep without Ron beside to her. 

The scene below her was still and boring, leaving her mind free to reflect on things better put aside. But Hermione's body wouldn't let her forget. It was restless, it seemed to crave Ron's touch, if only his hand lightly surrounding her wrist, feeling for her pulse.

Though the thing that really kept Hermione tossing and turning was the thought that at this very moment Ron could be calling out for her and she wasn't there. She winced, remembering the horror in his voice from the night before. Then she became warm and flushed thinking about the way he had held her tightly for the rest of the night. It was horrible how much pleasure Hermione had received from that embrace when she knew it was born out of Ron's pain.

Even so, Hermione couldn't help but crave those moments of mutual comfort. They were the only times that Ron would let her near him. During the day, he couldn't stand to be alone with her. He shrank from her touch. But at night, at night Ron was _hers_.

Hermione seriously considered sneaking into to his dorm room. But then what? Climb into bed with him? Spend the night? It _did_ sound wonderful.

Of course, he wasn't exactly _alone_ in that room. Hermione could just imagine the look on Seamus' face. Oh, yes, his dorm mates would _love _that. Ron wouldn't be able to tolerate the teasing. He'd stop talking to her all together. Or get himself expelled for fighting. Or both. Most likely both.

No, sneaking up to his dormitory, as enticing as it was, was not an option. Besides, they would be home in less than three days. Why continue to feed her addiction when she was going to have to live without it.

They would be separated for weeks or months. There would be no midnight rendezvous…not rendezvous, that was far too suggestive. No opportunity for any nighttime comfort. Yeah, that was better, she thought sarcastically.

The summer. Hermione knew it would be one of the hardest of her life. They hadn't even discussed visits with all that had been going on. Maybe Ron would want the time apart. It might be more than two months before she saw him again.

She let out a lung full of air at the thought. Even though part of her was looking forward to being free of the constant, maddening, push-pull from Ron, the idea of being separated made her heart hurt. She was so vastly pathetic.

Hermione sighed, looking over the emptiness of the Hogwarts grounds one more time. There was no point in contemplating this any longer. There was nothing Hermione could do about it tonight. She might as well do _something_ useful.

She climbed down from the window ledge and came around to her bed. Hermione pulled down her heaviest draperies, the ones that shielded all light. She fetched her wand and the Empath diary from its hiding spot and climbed up into bed. Hermione placed her lit wand above the book, at the head of the bed, and rolled onto her stomach to read herself to sleep.

The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was reading about the birth of Adrianna Brookfield's first child. When she awoke, sunshine was coming through the cracks in her drapery. Her wand was still lit.

And the diary was gone.

* * *

Thank you to RedMoonChick, kjcp, JenB, and Texasmagic. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of June, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_, and is rated R.

**

* * *

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**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Ginny was awoken from a thoroughly pleasant rest by a shrill voice calling her name. She groaned and pulled a pillow over her head. She felt a pair of irritating hands poking at her shoulders. She did her best to ignore them. "Leave me alone, Mum," she grumbled. 

"Ginevra Weasley, wake up this instant." The words were her mum's, but the voice was…Hermione? Oh crap.

The girl rolled over and looked up into the drawn face of her pajama clad friend. Ginny groaned again. "Hermione? What do you want?" It wasn't even fully light yet. If this was about her stupid brother again, she was going to kill him.

"The diary's gone," Hermione whispered urgently.

"The diary?" Ginny blinked at her sleepily. What was she going on about?

"The Empath Diary. You know, the one that belongs to that lunatic dictator that Harry calls a cousin. The one that's her _prize_ possession. The one she'll likely kill me over." Hermione looked frazzled to the point of panic. She had bags under her eyes and her hair was going every which way.

Ginny sat up fully, doing her best to push the cob webs from her mind. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

"Yes! I fell asleep on it for Heaven's sake. It was gone when I woke up. I looked everywhere. _The Legend and Legacy of the Empath_ is gone as well. Do you still have _The Lost Art of Empathy_?" Hermione spoke quickly and quietly.

It was hard to believe that she wasn't over reacting. Why would someone steal Adrianna's books? "Yeah, it's in my trunk." Unlike Hermione, Ginny didn't tend to _sleep_ with her books.

Hermione was already off the bed and going through the other girl's trunk. There was a frantic quality to every movement she made. As Ginny slid off her bed, she tried to remember if she had anything in there that she didn't want her friend to see. There were certainly things she didn't want Ron to know---

"It's not here." Hermione stared at the trunk with a despondent and terrified look.

Ginny felt her anxiety rise. She was sure she'd put… She scrambled off the bed, all vestiges of sleep leaving her, kneeling next to the trunk as she rummaged through the contents. "It has to be here. I know I put it right _here_." Harry was going to hate her if she lost Adrianna's book. Hermione he had history with, he'd forgive _her_.

She stared at the scattered contents of her trunk in disbelief. Why wasn't it here? Ginny stood up and began opening and closing her drawers, even though she knew, she _knew,_ she didn't put it there. Hermione searched the room, under the bed, the window sill, the desk surfaces. After endless minutes of useless searching, Ginny shook her head. "It's no use. It's not here." Now _she_ was beginning to panic.

Hermione's eyes darted around the room. "There's one more book." She ran from the room without warning, leaving Ginny to stare after her in shock.

Grabbing her dressing gown and slippers, Ginny didn't pause to put them on as she rushed after the wild-haired girl. She hopped down the stairs as she tried to put on her slippers and protect herself from the cold stone. "Hermione! Wait!" Ginny frowned. Why was she always chasing after someone?

Hermione was already down the steps of the girls' dormitory and ascending the steps to the boys'. Shite, Ginny thought as she realized where they were going. Harry and Dean's room. Possibly the last place _she_ should be going. Bloody hell.

Ginny reached the fifth year dorm room after Hermione, wondering why she didn't just have the sense to go back to her room. She struggled into her dressing gown, obscenely glad that she had the sense to grab it. She didn't want to be in _that_ particular room without it. Ginny entered the room cautiously, her stomach in knots. She felt a rush of wicked excitement.

Hermione had already pulled back the drapery around her brother's bed. It was too tall a bed for her to reach Ron from the floor so she climbed up and knelt, precariously, on the edge. She gently shook him and called his name.

As Hermione leaned over him, Ron sleepily reached out and yanked her toward him. He took her off balance and she wound up sprawled over him. He blearily called, "Hermione."

Ginny had to press her hand over her mouth to stifle the bubbling laughter that threatened to spill out. _He _certainly didn't think she was their mum.

"Ompf, Ron," Hermione whispered urgently, trying to wake him.

Ron didn't seem to hear Hermione's tone. Wrapping both his arms around her, he pulled her to him tightly. "Mmm, Hermione," he moaned.

Ginny bit her hand so hard it hurt. Yeah, he found Hermione repulsive. _That_ was it. Her poor friend was red faced and struggling, looking around the room nervously. "Ron! Wake up!" she said more insistently.

"Don' wanna," he murmured, nuzzling, yes nuzzling, his captive's neck. "'Mione."

'Mione, huh? By this point Ginny had at least a summer's worth of material with which to torture her brother when the days got long and boring.

"Ginny!" Hermione called out in desperation. "I could use some help here."

But the redhead just shook her head, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Looks like you're doing _just_ fine." Besides, Ginny was thoroughly enjoying the show.

Hermione groaned and tried harder to push Ron away. It seemed Ron had grown quite strong over the last year or so. He wasn't budging. Did Hermione _really_ want him to?

"What the bloody hell is going on out there?" called a loud Irish brogue.

Ginny froze, the laughter dying on her lips as three faces appeared from behind the curtains of three beds. Only Harry's remained shut.

"Ow!" Ron shouted, releasing Hermione immediately and rubbing his shoulder. Ginny had to wonder exactly what Hermione had done to him in her desperation to get away. Seemed the kitten had claws…or teeth. Ginny bit back another giggle as Hermione quickly scrambled away from her brother.

"Seems we have visitors," Dean stated in a sleep roughened voice. Ginny's heart immediately lodged in her throat, and her attention pulled away from the amusing scene to one more….Oh dear, he was staring at her with such warm dark eyes. She blushed and had to look away.

Ginny pulled her dressing gown more tightly closed and prayed that Ron wouldn't notice the interaction. And Harry that would stay behind his drapery. God, what would she do if Harry appeared now?

Ron was looking at Hermione with panic. A panic that had nothing to do with a missing book. Maybe it was the glint in a certain Irishman's eye, who took the scene in with great interest. Let the teasing begin. Seamus leaned out of his bed, calling merrily, "Well, then, what's this? Right cozy, I'd say."

Normally, Ginny would have expected Seamus to be making a comment about Hermione being a prude or bookworm… or about her current, _very_ uncharacteristic behavior.

However, it seemed Adrianna's speech had gotten to the sandy-haired boy. He was looking at Hermione with what could only be described as appreciation and maybe even awe. As if finding her in a bloke's bed was proof of a hidden wild side. If Ginny wasn't mistaken, there was even a touch of envy on his face when he looked at Ron.

"Nothing! Nothing's going on," Hermione's voice was shrill and unusually flustered as she scrambled off Ron's bed, shooting Seamus a look that could kill.

Seamus smiled broader, eyes intent on Hermione. "It dinna look like nothin'. Dean, it look like nothin' to you?"

Dean smiled playfully at Ginny and turned to look at their red-faced victims. "No, it sure didn't, Seamus. What do you think, Neville?"

Neville blushed as bright as Ron. He stammered, "I didn't see anything, I swear."

Good old Neville. Ginny sighed. It seemed it was time for her to be a good sister and friend. Ron and Hermione seemed to be completely incapable at getting themselves out of this sort of mess. How did Ron survive the twins, again? Oh yeah, he had her.

Ginny rolled her eyes, and gave a practiced grunt of incredulity. "Oh, come now. What could they possibly have been doing? I'm standing right here."

Hermione shot her a grateful look as she regained her power of speech. "We were just here looking for a book." She turned and looked at Ron pointedly. "Remember that book you borrowed. The one you were reading yesterday."

Ron looked confused, but he took the hint that it was important and climbed off his bed. He opened a drawer, "It's right…" A shocked expression came over his face. His head turned abruptly and he made eye contact with Hermione. A silent communication seemed to be taking place. Ginny found it amusing and annoying at the same time.

Hermione gulped. "Is there any place else you could have put it?"

"I know I put it here," Ron insisted, but he was already rummaging through his things.

"So, what sort of book is this?" Seamus asked with laughter, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Seamus Finnigan!" Hermione's frustration bled into anger at her classmate. She snapped at him, "Just, just get back to bed and mind your own self."

The Irishman just grinned wider and exchanged a look with Dean. He obviously felt this was an example of Hermione's 'fire.' If Hermione ever found out what Adrianna had stirred up, there was going to be quite a show.

Ron was oblivious to the entire exchange, as usual. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around. "It's got to be here." He strode over to Harry's bed and opened the curtains. "Hey, mate, did you see…"

Harry wasn't there. Ginny felt an initial wave of fear, then she remembered that Harry was rarely where he supposed to be these days. Ron shared a look with Hermione, who pushed past Ginny and started another mad dash down the stairs. Apparently, Hermione was a tiny bit worried.

Ginny followed, running down the stairs, once again, after Hermione. That's what she did, follow. It was her lot in life. It seemed it didn't matter where they were going, Ginny wasn't about to be left behind. It was so sad.

She heard her brother's bare feet on the stone behind her, and Ginny called out, "Wait! Harry's probably out by the lake. You can't go out like that."

Hermione behaved as if she hadn't heard her. Ron dashed past Ginny, his longer strides overtaking hers. He caught up with his friend in the common room and caught her arm, swinging her to face him. When she looked up at him, there was fear on her face.

Ron didn't flinch. He said calmly, "You need to get dressed. We'll look for Harry together."

She seemed to be considering when they heard a soft voice call from the other side of the sofa, "I'm here."

They found Harry sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest. His back was against the sofa, and he was staring blankly into the cool flames of the fireplace.

"Harry." Hermione rushed to him. She hadn't seen Harry like this. He always pulled himself together a bit when he visited them in the hospital. Unfortunately, Ginny had seen this side of Harry often over the last few days.

Hermione started to kneel, but paused, looking to Ron. He stood behind her and nodded reassuringly. Carefully, apologetically, Hermione confessed, "Harry, we can't find Adrianna's books. They're gone."

His only reaction was a brief nod. That was strange. Ginny certainly expected a reaction from _that_. She wanted to say something, but felt out of place. Hermione and Ron were back. They were a trio again. She wasn't needed.

Hermione moved then. This time, she did fall her knees beside him and searched his face with a concerned expression. "Do you know what happened to them?" she asked, cautiously.

Harry shrugged, his gaze not wavering. "I suppose Adrianna took them back."

"Oh." It seemed all Hermione could manage. Silence followed as she shared glances with Ron and then Ginny. Finally, the older girl placed a light hand on Harry's knee, asking, "Did something happen?"

He shrugged again.

Ron started to ask, "But, why---"

"She's gone," Harry interrupted in a stronger voice

"Gone?" Ginny whispered, almost to herself. She moved closer, around the sofa to join the others.

"Adrianna left. I suppose she took her books with her," Harry repeated matter-of-factly.

Ginny mind raced, trying to remember every interaction she had with Adrianna, everything the Empath had said. Ginny shook her head in disbelief. "She said she wouldn't leave. She said no one could make---"

"Well, she left," Harry said without a trace of emotion.

"What was that shite about helping you, about fate sending her here?" Ginny's voice shook with anger. She felt a burning desire to kill the traitorous bitch.

Harry shrugged yet another time. After a long moment he answered, "She said I'd see her again soon."

"Soon?" Ginny choked. Soon, yeah right. Her fists curled in rage. She felt her brother put a hand on her shoulder to still her.

"Did she say when?" Hermione asked softly.

There was another non-answer from Harry.

"Did she say why, mate?" Ron asked in a supportive tone.

Harry shrugged. "She said it was really important."

Ginny remembered the spinning medallion from the day before. What could be more important than Harry? She didn't buy it. Not for a second.

"Oh Harry," Hermione whimpered, throwing her arms around his shoulders and leaning her cheek against him.

He didn't move to hug her back.

* * *

For Harry, the last two days of school passed slowly, uneventfully. He felt like he was just awakening from a strange dream and was having trouble making reality come into focus. It didn't help that reality seemed to come with sharp edges that were determined to make him bleed. 

When Adrianna said goodbye, Harry felt hopeful that she would come back for him. But those feelings disappeared as soon as she did, leaving him feeling like he had just awoken from a spell. He was having trouble believing that she had been there at all.

There was no physical evidence of her existence. The books had vanished, her room was back to the way it was before, even the photo album was gone. Harry's friends refused to mention her name and he certainly wasn't going to bring the subject up. On the morning of the last full day at Hogwarts, Dean Thomas asked Harry about his cousin. Harry almost asked him what he was talking about.

Harry whiled away his last days with long walks and chess matches. He spent time with his friends- with them, but still somewhat apart from them. It was as if there was some invisible wall, through which Harry watched them from a distance.

Ron had developed an obsessive need to be around Hermione at all times. Even so, he avoided physical contact with her as if touching her could cause his own death. The resulting strain was palpable. His friends were edgy and snappish, none of which was new to Harry. Yet this time, it was somehow different, and it filled him with a sense of dread and loss.

He may have resorted to avoiding his two best friends all together if it hadn't been for Ginny's presence. She was always there, moderating Ron and Hermione, saving Harry from unwanted questions, making dry, sarcastic comments that held just the right amount of humor and bitterness to make it bearable to him.

Harry wondered why she had appointed herself their babysitter. He did not delude himself to think that it was otherwise. It was clearly_ work_ for Ginny. There was an underlying exhaustion about her that no doubt came from the strain of keeping the peace. He hoped she knew how grateful he as.

The night of the Final Feast had been the worst. His friends seemed to think his ban on the Great Hall wouldn't extend to the last 'celebration.' Of course, it had. So, Harry ditched them and instead, he indulged in a whirlwind ride of believing that he might have Sirius back. Not once, but twice, first with a mirror and then with a ghost. In the end, he had spent the remainder of the feast staring out his dormitory window. There he sat still, on the morning he was to go back to the Dursleys.

Over the course of the morning, Harry came to the horrible realization that if he had just opened the mirror from Sirius earlier, the whole Department of Mysteries catastrophe may not have taken place. It was just another way he let Sirius down. No wonder he didn't want to stay on earth as a ghost. No wonder he wanted to move on instead of being with his worthless godson.

"Harry, come on. We have to go."

He dragged his eyes over to Ron. His friend stood by the door with both of their trunks, looking harried. The rest of the dorm had cleared out ages ago.

"They aren't going to let you stay just because you refuse to move, mate," Ron said in a soft, concerned way.

When had Ron become so perceptive? Harry supposed he was right, so he climbed off the ledge and grabbed his wand, pointing it at the trunk. "_Mobiliarbus,"_ Harry called tiredly. It was the first word he spoke that day.

As he and his trunk made their way down the spiral staircase behind Ron, Harry thought about how three days ago he dreamed of not going back to the Dursleys at all. He had actually allowed himself to believe Adrianna would rescue him.

It was just like those few magical hours after meeting Sirius, when he believed he could go live with him. Just like that…too good to be true.

* * *

Ginny lingered near the entrance to the castle, watching her friends and classmates deposit their trunks in piles to be brought to the train as they made their way to the carriages. Who was she kidding? Lingering? She was hiding in the bushes, waiting for Harry. 

Over the last two days, Ginny had completely fallen pray to her Harry Potter Obsession, becoming his self-appointed bodyguard. After Adrianna's mysterious disappearance, she and Hermione had agreed to keep a close eye on Harry, to monitor any fall out from that _woman,_ and to make sure Harry didn't do anything stupid.

Hell of a lot of help Hermione had been and _that_, as always, was her stupid brother's fault. Ginny was not only left minding Harry by herself, but also playing mediator for the Ron/Hermione fiasco. Mostly, she tried to shield Harry from the insanity that threatened to drag everyone around the _non_-couple into lunacy as well.

After the incident on Ron's bed, he apparently decided he couldn't allow for a slip up like that again. Ron decided he couldn't be alone with Hermione. Not only that, but he insisted on maintaining a minimum safe distance between them, to make sure no, gasp, touching occurred. This left poor Hermione distracted and miserable.

What was perfectly obvious to Ginny was that all they needed was a good long snog. Apparently, she was the only one it was obvious to, so… she was delegated by her brother to be in their constant presence to buffer him from Hermione and her many charms. _Now_ the prat wants her around.

But that wasn't the biggest problem. Ginny could probably have handled things quite nicely if it weren't for one thing. Her barking mad brother, not only couldn't stand being alone with Hermione, he couldn't stand her being out of his sight. Ginny had to mind them every waking moment.

Yesterday, he had kittens when Hermione slipped off to the loo without telling him. You'd have thought they had been attacked by a hoard of Death Eaters from Ron's reaction… or giant spiders.

Ginny laughed. At least she could still entertain herself. She scanned the grounds again. Where _were_ they? She should never have entrusted Ron with something as important as getting Harry to the carriages. She squeezed her eyes shut. Great, now she was his keeper. Way to go pride, good work.

The irony of this whole situation was that Ginny had been thrown into a position that she had coveted since her first year, the fourth member of the fabulous trio. Who was she kidding? First year? She had been dreaming about being in this intimate group since before she came to Hogwarts, ever since her brother, who had previously been her best friend, had left her alone with only owls detailing his great escapades and his fantastic friends.

Ginny had foolishly assumed that as soon as she got to Hogwarts she would slip right in and join in on the adventure. Well, she had gotten to be a part of the adventure all right, in the worst possible way. All it had taken to get Ron to remember that she existed was to get possessed by a mad man.

Now, here she was, the outsider, a coveted part of the group. Not because they wanted _her, _but because they were desperate, falling apart at the seams, and they needed her to hold them together.

It was all very sad and she was beyond pathetic, but here she was hiding in the bushes, waiting for Harry Potter and her brother, the adventurer. And Ginny couldn't get her feet to move and go somewhere else.

As she scanned the crowd, Ginny suddenly noticed a figure walking toward her. Oh shite. Dean Thomas.

Ginny had managed to avoid being alone with Dean since the kiss incident. Not necessarily because she didn't want to be alone with him, but because not leaving Ron, Hermione, and Harry alone, didn't leave _her _much alone time.

She put on a charming smile as Dean neared her, reminding herself that flirting with him was the _only_ healthy thing she had done this week.

"Hey, Ginny." He smiled an adorable lopsided grin, looking at her in a way that made her feel beautiful, wanted. "What are you doing over here?"

Yeah. How to answer that one? When in doubt, be coy. "Nothing much," she said with a flirtatious smile. She may have even batted her eyes, just a bit.

"Really, because it looks like you were hiding in the bushes?" Dean said playfully, taking a step into her personal space.

"Now, why would I do that?" She took a playful step back.

"Who knows? Why does Ginevra Weasley do anything that she does? You're a complete mystery."

"Mmm, mystery. I like the sound of that." Ginny was starting to feel that giddy, intoxicated feeling that came from being sought after by an attractive male.

"A complete enigma."

"Enigma, huh?"

"Yeah," he was biting his lip and looking at her almost shyly. He had this amazing way of being shy and bold at the same time. It was as if she made him nervous, but he found her worth perusing anyway. It was incredibly alluring.

"How's a bloke supposed to know where he stands? A girl sneaks into his room in the middle of the night, gives him a kiss, quite a brilliant kiss at that, then avoids him for the rest of the week. Do you have any ideas on how this bloke should interpret that?"

Ginny blushed warmly. It _had_ been a brilliant kiss. With great effort she gave him an innocent look. "Maybe the girl wasn't looking for the bloke. Maybe she was just looking for something for her brother."

"And the kiss?"

"An accident?" she offered causing him to chuckle. Dean reached out and ran a finger down her face. Ginny shivered and leaned into the touch, struggling to keep her eyes open. "You kissed me," she breathed, losing the pretense of their game.

"You kissed me back." His voice became husky. Dean's eyes were both intense and vulnerable.

"I was just being polite." Even as she said it she took a step closer, putting a hand on his chest. Ginny received a beaming smile for her efforts, making warmth course through her.

"Polite, huh? Somehow, you don't seem the type of girl who does anything that she doesn't want to." Dean leaned closer. Was he going to kiss her already? They didn't have all day.

Ginny shrugged. She was enjoying this. Flirting. Being with Dean was so simple. A bit of enjoyable conversation, a little snogging. No hidden motives, no life and death drama.

"Well, then, if that's true, why have you been avoiding me?" Dean breathed, close to her lips.

"Avoiding?" Ginny whispered, as she unsuccessfully tried to keep herself from licking her lips in anticipation. She curled a hand over his shoulder. "I've seen you everyday."

He smiled, "With your brother in constant attendance. Never alone."

"Alone?" she said with mock indignity. "That would be unseemly." Ginny loved the way his eyes stared at her lips like they were the finest chocolate in the world. "My brother's not here now."

Dean smiled that big, sexy smile. "No, he's not."

With a burst of courage she pulled Dean back two steps into the hedges so they were completely out of sight. Dean chuckled in response and took the move as permission. He cupped her chin and brought his lips to hers.

Ginny sighed as their lips met, giving herself over completely. She loved this. The sweetness, the normalcy, it made her feel like girl. Simply an ordinary girl, desired by a boy.

Their lips slid across one another's. Ginny loved the plumpness of his lower lip and the way Dean's hand pressed against the center of her back. She lost herself in his worshipping mouth, forgetting the stress and rejection of her everyday life. He boldly parted her lips, and she felt his tongue shyly slip inside for a taste.

Ginny felt a flash of arousal, enjoying the sensation. Unfortunately, it was followed by nervous trepidation. Suddenly, reality intruded, and she remembered where she was and why she was there. Harry. Bloody hell, couldn't he even leave her alone when she was snogging another bloke?

Ginny tore herself away from Dean, gently pushing him back. "The carriages are leaving."

He smiled and nodded, his eyes glazed. "Can I write you this summer?"

Ginny blushed, butterflies in her stomach. This was becoming more than a simple flirtation. "I don't know how I could stop you."

"Will you write back?" Dean asked, vulnerable.

"Mmm, probably. You know, just to be polite." She gave him one last beaming smile and pushed around him and out of the bushes. She really needed to find Harry…. and Ron and Hermione, of course.

"Will you meet me in Diagon Alley?" He called out behind her.

Ginny's heart skipped a beat. She turned, it was incredibly appealing to have a boy who wasn't afraid to ask. "You mean like a date?"

"Yeah, like a date."

"You are aware that I have six older brothers, two of whom work in Diagon Alley?" she teased.

"I can handle it."

Yeah, she was sure he could. Biting her lip, she gave a quick nod and called out, "Have a nice summer, Dean."

Ginny turned and ran down to the carriages, her heart beating wildly. She looked around anxiously. Some bodyguard she was, the carriages were already beginning to leave. Shite.

"Ginny!" She spun to find Hermione leaning out of a carriage, gesturing frantically. "Come on, you're late."

She let out a little puff of self-deprecating laughter at the irony of Hermione's statement and hurried over to the carriage. Ginny quickly hiked herself up and into it, falling into the seat next to Hermione, and finding Ron and Harry opposite her.

Harry looked at her curiously and asked, "You run here or something?"

Oh god, he knows.

"No, why?"

"You're all flushed." Harry brow wrinkled.

Ginny gave him the most innocent look she could muster, not sure what to say. She should have admitted to running.

"Where were you?" Ron asked crossly.

She responded with her best sisterly sarcasm. "Saying goodbye to friends." As if it was _his_ business, anyway.

Ron started to squabble back, but Harry interrupted with a small smile, "Well, we're glad you're here now."

Ginny couldn't help but smile back as her heart tumbled… from just one look. How would she feel if _Harry_ kissed her? Oh god, she really was a dirt slag.

* * *

"This one is empty," Ron called out, over his shoulder, as he entered a compartment on the Hogwart's Express, carrying Pigwidgeon's cage and his chess set. Harry and Hermione filtered in after him, stowing their respective animals. 

Ginny threw her backpack onto the seat. "I need to talk to Luna for a minute. I'll be right back," she called. Ron's anxiety rose as she flitted out of the compartment. It was ok, he told himself, Harry was still there…

"Oy, where are you off to?" Ron almost yelled as he caught Harry half-way out the door.

Harry looked at him like he'd grown an extra head. "To the loo, mate. That a problem?"

Yeah, obviously that was a problem. Ron could only grunt as his best friend left the room. Sometimes it would help if Harry were just the tiniest bit perceptive. Ron was dying here.

Then he was alone with Hermione. He began to feel the same heightening of sensations that had become common whenever he was alone with her. He began to sweat.

Ron actually tripped over his own feet as he turned to take a seat. Tripped and brushed against Hermione's back as she stood on her toes to adjust Crookshanks' cage. It was just the smallest of touches but he felt like he had been burned. Ron pulled away violently and threw himself in the seat farthest away from her.

He looked up to see her staring at him with such a look of hurt and accusation that it made his head hurt... and maybe his heart, as well. Shite. Damn. Her lips were pursed and she looked like she might cry. No, no, don't cry. .

Ron's stomach sank. He had done it _again_. When was he going to learn? Ron's mouth opened and closed like a mackerel as he searched in vain to find the words to make it better. All he could think was that he was the biggest prat in the world.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He was in for it now. Ron almost welcomed the inevitable punishing rage. He deserved it. Hermione crossed her arms and became ram-rod stiff. Holy Shite.

"Ron," she began. The careful tone in her voice showed Ron just how bad the situation was. "I know…" she started and stopped, licking her lip. He watched the tip of her tongue transfixed, for a moment he forgot he was in trouble.

Hermione began again in a rush. "I understand that you don't want to be alone with me, but I'm not going to... I know I'm not pretty or attractive. I'm actually quite plain, which is _fine_. So, you should know that I don't expect anything from you. I mean I don't..." She wiped away a tear.

Oh god, oh god. Ron could only blink as panic sent his mind into a state of disorganization. He tried to take in everything she said. Hermione didn't really think that? Why would she think that? Her tears were making him desperate.

Ron shook his head rapidly, reaching out to her. He had to say something, deny it. Crap. "Hermione, I---"

She shrunk away from him, interrupting sharply, "Don't feel like you have to touch me. I can see how you shudder when you do. I'll just keep my distance and maybe we can go back to how it was before." Hermione frantically reached for her Muggle clothes as Ron stood frozen by his own incompetence and blinding fear. Her voice cracked as she murmured, "I'm going to change." She bolted from the room.

"Hermione, wait!" Ron screamed, suddenly finding his voice. Ron dashed after her, out into the corridor, but she was already pushing through the crowd. Shite. Shite. Shite. Now he felt like _he_ was going to cry. He had to fix this. How as he going to fix this?

A crash came from the hall in the other direction, then the sound of multiple voices yelling curses. It drew Ron's attention and he instinctively pushed his way toward the commotion. Whatever it was, it had to be easier to deal with than Hermione.

Ron arrived to find his fellow DA members had turned Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle into a trio of giant slugs. By the way Harry stood over them, it was clear the Slytherins had been trying to ambush his best friend. He felt a rush of anger at the three, slugs or not. When would they ever quit?

"I must say," Ernie Macmillion said, "I'm looking forward to seeing Malfoy's mother's face when he gets of the train."

Ron tried to smile at the obvious humor of the situation. "Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though. He's loads better looking now." He gestured toward Harry, whose proud expression was fading back into his tired, pained look. "Anyway, Harry, the food trolley's just stopped, if you want anything."

Harry nodded and thanked the others. He stopped at the food trolley and Ron entered the compartment. Seeing that Hermione was already back, he took a quiet breath, attempting to still his nerves. She looked completely composed as she sat, reading the _Daily Prophet._ Ron deliberately sat next to Hermione, noticing how her body became like stone.

Hermione looked to the doorway, where Harry was paying for the food. "You don't have to," she whispered sternly. She quickly moved to the seat opposite and away from him, sitting next to the window. She went on reading like nothing had happened.

Ron felt a sense of mounting dread. He_ needed _to fix this. He was running out of time. He slid down the seat until he was across from her, leaning forward, he whispered pleadingly, "Hermione, you don't understand."

She looked up and nodded. "I _do_ understand. It's all right, Ron." Hermione gave him an artificial, serene smile and went back to her paper. Ron wanted to shake her, to make her listen. To what, he had no idea.

Harry entered the compartment, sitting next to him and handling out Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties. Neville and Ginny arrived moments later. Before Ron knew it, they were all comfortably chatting amongst themselves. He tried to keep it from being too obvious that he was staring at Hermione.

_Now_ what was he going to do? Ron wasn't going to be able to fix anything while everyone else was here. He could hear the conversation now. 'Hey, Hermione thinks she's repulsive because I can't be alone with her or touch her. What she doesn't understand is that if I do either of those things, I may start tearing her clothes off.'

Shite, he was completely doomed now. Ron leaned back and closed his eyes. Well, he had a five hour train ride to figure out what he was going to say to her at the train station. He just had to figure out a way to make her understand without loosing her forever.

* * *

Hermione watched Harry walk away, down the platform with the Dursleys. This was not going to be a good summer for him, despite the Order's reassurances. Even if the Dursleys didn't _mal_treat him, they certainly weren't going to comfort him. 

Too much had happened this year. Harry was bound to spend the summer convincing himself that Sirius' death was his fault and that he didn't deserve his friends. It was inevitable, really. If only that horrible Adrianna hadn't come and made matters worse. Just one more loss Harry was going to have to deal with. Alone. It made her heart hurt.

Hermione would just have to find a way to keep a closer watch on Harry this summer. She took a deep breath before turning. It was time for her to say goodbye to Ron, and she didn't know how she was going to do it.

It had become painfully obvious over the last few days that her touch disgusted him. Hermione must have given too much away. Ron must have figured out how she felt about him. Now, he seemed scared to be alone with her.

Hermione walked over to say her farewell, cautiously. She locked her hands behind her back to remind herself not to touch him. Ron was bent over his trunk. She came up behind him and said, "So, goodbye, then." She managed a small smile.

Ron turned and stood. She saw panic in his eyes. Did he think she was going to jump him? She wondered how she had managed to ruin everything so quickly. What if they could never be friends again?

"Hermione," he croaked in a pained voice, his eyes darting around at their family and friends. Ron was most likely worried she'd make a scene. He needn't be. She had _some_ dignity left.

Hermione steeled herself for a cold, distant farewell. Then abruptly, Ron grabbed Hermione's arm, making her drop her clasped hands in shock. He fumbled for her hand and grasped it tightly. He was pulling her down the platform before she knew what was happening.

Hermione's heart was in her throat as she ran to keep up with his long strides. She had to concentrate to keep from tripping. "Ron, what are you…? Where are we going?"

He ignored her questions, only stopping when their family was well out of sight. When he turned to her, he was bright red and breathing heavily. He almost appeared to be shaking. Ron ran a hand through his already rumpled hair. "Hermione," he sputtered. "Look, you've misunderstood."

Not this again. Had he pulled her all this way just to reject her in private? Hermione couldn't handle this. She couldn't handle a false apology. "I do understand--"

"No!" Ron yelled, making her jump at the ferocity of it. "You couldn't be more wrong. Will you bloody well stop interrupting me and listen?"

Hermione was stunned into silence. Ron opened his mouth to speak, and she waited but no sound came out. Then he abruptly grabbed her shoulders and she tensed. His beautiful cobalt blue eyes darted around her face. When Ron finally began talking he made little sense. "You think I don't want to touch you… you think… Bloody hell."

Ron broke away and spun from her, bending over and covering his face with his hands. He was really behaving quite crazy. It was a bit concerning. He spun back and looked like he was going to try to speak again.

Instead, Ron lunged toward her, his arms circling her waist and crushing her against him. Hermione was forced to put her arms around his neck to keep from lurching as he lifted her off the ground, up to his height. It felt so good to be back in his arms again that she couldn't keep the tears from clouding her vision.

Ron's lips were against her shoulder. She could feel the whisper of his eye lashes against her neck. When he spoke, she felt the words against her skin. It sent shivers up her spine. "Hermione, I need you to understand… to understand how beautiful you are." His voice broke.

"Ron---" She implored, trying to get him to stop. His words caused more emotions than she could deal with.

"No, you don't get it. I know I've been acting barking lately, but it's not… I couldn't let you leave without knowing I think you're gorgeous... _too_ gorgeous."

Hermione was speechless. She wanted to look him in the eyes and see if he really meant it, but his head wouldn't budge.

After long moments, he whispered, emotion heavy in his voice, "I'll miss you." He pressed his lips roughly to her cheek. They lingered. It was the first time he ever kissed her. She stayed as still as she could, afraid to break whatever spell they were under.

"Goodbye," Ron croaked. He set her down and quickly jogged past her and back to his family.

Hermione stared after him, her hand gently touching her cheek where he had kissed her, knowing it was clichéd and not caring in the least. She tasted salt as tears ran over her lips. A million emotions bubbled inside her. She tried to ignore the one emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

A smile crept over her face. It was hope.

* * *

Special thanks to kjcp and Texasmagic at CM for betaing this story 


	10. Chapter Ten

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Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of June, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Cheackmated_, and is rated R.

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* * *

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Of Hearts and Heroes

**Chapter Ten****

* * *

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Ginevra Weasley sat perched on the back of her sofa at the Burrow, staring out the window at nothing in particular. It was a beautiful summer mid-morning, not too hot, not too humid, not even a cloud in the sky. Ginny had been sitting with her forehead against the glass since breakfast.

"Dear, why don't you go see if your brother wants to go flying?" her mother called from the kitchen, in a soft concerned voice.

Ginny knew that it would all too soon escalate to orders and bullying. It had been this way all summer. Mrs. Weasley kept her two youngest locked away at the Burrow, and then sweetly entreated them to 'go play.' Her daughter was having none of it. Until she was out of her cozy little prison she was on strike. As for her brother…

She gazed out at Ron, who stood by the pond throwing pebbles, most likely taking his latent aggression out on the poor frogs. He had been sullen and withdrawn all summer, grunting responses to questions and snapping far too easily. Their mother thought he was punishing her for her over protectiveness, she had grumbled about it often enough.

It made her daughter wonder if the woman knew her son at all. Ron didn't pout and sulk when he was angry. No, he yelled, he screamed, he argued. Even his silences radiated with a stiff fury. When Ron was heated at you _everybody_ knew it. He didn't have a subtle bone in his body.

No, the Ron by the pond wasn't angry. He was confused, worried, scared…maybe, heartsick over a girl…definitely, lonely for his best friends…completely. Mostly though, he was a bloke who hadn't had a good night's sleep in over a month. So, why was it that Ginny was the only one who noticed?

"Ginevra Weasley," the portly mother called in a commanding voice. "Will you stop this incessant moping and _do_ something?" She slapped her dishrag down for emphasis and put her hands on her hips.

"What do you suggest, mother?" Ginny replied without wavering her outward gaze.

"If you were listening, I suggested that you go flying with your brother." There was anger in Molly's voice now.

"Ron doesn't want to fly with me," the youngest Weasley said softy. He wanted Harry and Hermione.

"How do you know if you don't ask him?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, the volume of her voice steadily rising.

"I know."

"Well, do something else. Just get off the ruddy sofa!"

When Molly Weasley used _that_ tone of voice, her children jumped. Usually. Ginny rolled her head along the pane of glass and looked into her mother's blazing eyes. She fought the ingrained urge to wither and turned to her own simmering rage.

Starting a row was easy. She just had to choose a subject and there were plenty to choose from. Being held hostage left one with plenty of time to nurse their anger. Ginny chose to start with the safest of grips, the one most easily justified and least likely to land her in tears.

"Fine, then," the teenager replied defiantly. "I'll just owl my friends and tell them I'll be meeting them at Diagon Alley."

Her mother scoffed. "Friends! Dean Thomas, you mean."

"And what's so wrong with that?" Ginny demanded. This had become a common argument in their household. It was pulled out whenever one wanted to avoid the real issues.

Not that this wasn't a _real_ issue. Ginny had the right to have some happiness and fun in her life, something to take her mind off all the horror. At the moment, Dean was the only normal teenage thing in her life and even _that_ was denied to her.

"Ginevra you are fourteen-years-old. You are not going on a _date_ to Diagon Alley!"

"I'll be fifteen in _nine_ days, " Ginny argued.

Molly shook her head, turning away from her daughter and the tired argument. "Fifteen is still too young to be meeting boys in Diagon Alley." She turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Silently, she cursed herself for _ever_ letting Ron know about Dean. She never would have, if it hadn't been for her stupid pride. Stupid pride that made her lie about Michael and who broke up with whom. Then made her brag about Dean Thomas. All so she wouldn't look _undesirable_ in front of her brother and stupid Harry Potter.

If she hadn't told Ron, Dean would be Ginny's boyfriend right now. All his letters hinted at a question that he was going to ask her in person. It was quite clear what that question was. Dean's letters were not subtle. Actually, they were warm and lovely, the one bright spot in this whole horrid summer. Quite unlike some _other_ letters she had received.

Damn Ron and all her bloody brothers for that matter. Not only had Ron gleefully announced Dean as 'more than a friend,' to her parents, but he'd done it in front of twins as well. The twins, of course, had to steal one of Dean's letters, and Fred enthusiastically read it out-loud at the dinner table. Thus causing Ginny's banishment from Diagon Alley.

Ron had been right satisfied with himself. Muttering about how Dean wasn't good enough for her, the stupid git. Who the hell was he? How Hermione put up with him, Ginny would never know. With his sister, Ron was merely protective, with Hermione he was down right possessive. Poor girl.

Ginny really needed to get Ron back for that. Problem was the boy was so miserable she didn't have the heart. She _had_ gotten Fred back, though, and _good_. Made sure Mum knew exactly what had he did with Angelina, alone in his room, while she was out doing 'her errands' for the Order.

Irate now, after her reverie, Ginny got up and followed her mother. Arguing was one of the only things there was to _do_ around there. Molly was clanging through the kitchen, more to make noise than to get anything done.

"Fine, then," Ginny said, picking up the argument where it left of as she crossed her arms obstinately in the kitchen entranceway. "I want to see Harry. Surely, I'm old enough to see _him_." She held her breath as she waited for a reply, moving on to common-Weasley-row-topic-number-two was always a risk. It meant that tears and humiliation were just around the bend.

Mrs. Weasley turned and she met her daughter's gaze. She looked tired. "Ginny, we've had this argument before."

No kidding. They'd had this argument before and they'd keep having it until Harry was safe at the Burrow. "Mum, something's wrong. I know it. _Really_ wrong." Her voice broke. Damn voice.

Molly came over and guided her daughter unto a chair, speaking in a tone designed to soothe. "Nothing's wrong. Someone checks with him nearly everyday. Your father saw him just two days ago."

Ginny huffed angrily, her voice rising with each sentence. "Yeah and Harry wouldn't let Dad through the doorway. Wouldn't even spare a moment to talk with him. It was his sixteenth _birthday_, Mum, and he wasn't interested, not in people, not in presents. I bet he hasn't even opened them. There hasn't been one letter thanking us. That's_ not_ Harry, Mum."

The older woman looked deeply distressed as she took a seat next to her daughter. "Your father said he seemed quite chipper, said the Dursleys were treating him well this year."

Ginny shook her head with pursed, angry lips. "He's furious. He's punishing us for abandoning him." She was disappointed in herself for the weepiness in her voice. She didn't need her mother to know how deeply she cared for Harry, but that was the risk she took by bringing the subject up. _One day_ she would be able to do it without the tears.

Molly put her arm around her and squeezed her with her best motherly warmth. Even as Ginny felt comforted she resented her need for it. "He's not angry with us, dear."

"How do you know?" Ginny demanded. "You've seen his letters. One, two lines at the most. 'I'm fine, see you back at school.' Even when you wrote him and told him he could come to the Burrow, 'No, that's not a good idea. I'm safer here. See you soon.' That is _not_ Harry, Mum. Something's really wrong." She was yelling by the end.

Molly smoothed her hair and kissed her crown. "He's in mourning, love. Everyone has to do that in his or her own way. He just needs time."

"He's drowning in time. He _needs_ his friends."

"Tell you what, dear? I'll go with your father tomorrow and see him myself."

Ginny shook her head, trying not to blink and cause the tears to fall. "He needs..." He needs me. "Ron and Hermione. The rest of us aren't good enough."

"Codswallop, Ginny," her mother said, appalled. "Don't you ever say that about yourself!"

She had given too much away. She'd been too transparent. Carefully, Ginny put on a veil of false confidence and looked intently at her mother. "Let me go with you tomorrow. Maybe I can---"

Mrs. Weasley was shaking her head, standing, putting distance between them. "I'm not going over this again, Ginevra," she said sternly, going back to her chores.

"But, Mum---"

"I'm worried about him as well. We'll figure out a way to get him to come and stay with us, all right?"

No, it was not 'all right.' Nothing was _all right_. Not one bloody thing. But Ginny didn't have much choice. She nodded, slumping in her chair.

"Oh look, Hedwig's here," Molly said, causing Ginny to look up. "Letters from Harry." She detached the letter from the owl's leg. "And Hermione, as well. Hedwig must have gone to see her before coming here. That's why you didn't get a thank-you owl yesterday, dear." Molly stroked Hedwig and gave her a biscuit, before handing her daughter two letters.

Ginny hid the way her hand trembled by opening Harry's letter as hastily as she could.

_Dear Ginny,_

_Thank you so much for your kind gift. Hope you're having a good summer._

_Harry_

Ginny threw down the letter with disgust. "Ruddy rubbish!" she bit out, because the words she _wanted_ to use would get a silencing charm placed on her for a week.

Molly anxiously picked up the letter and read it. Frowning she said, "See there, he liked your gift. He's fine."

Her daughter gave her a skeptical look. "Mum, he hasn't even opened the gifts."

"Of course, he has. Look here," Molly pointed at the letter.

"It says nothing. Nothing at all."

Molly sighed and looked off into the distance. "He's fine," she said. Ginny suspected she was trying to convince herself more than anyone.

Scowling, Ginny grabbed Hermione's considerably more substantial letter and skimmed it. Hermione had finally gotten her own copy of _The Legend and Legacy of the Empath_ from Dean. Unfortunately, the only copy he could get was in the original German and it was taking her forever to translate it. It was worth it, though, to be able to read a version that wasn't corrupted by that bitch.

Six bloody weeks Harry was stuck in that prison and not a word from Adrianna. It was _her_ fault that Harry was acting like a goddamned zombie. She had stirred him up and abandoned him, pushing him right over the edge. God, how Ginny hated her.

She was going to find out what Adrianna wanted from them if it was the last thing Ginny did.

* * *

Ron stood out by the pond, trying to skip stones and failing miserably. His pebbles plunked into the water, scaring away the frogs. No doubt, if Ginny were there, she would accuse him of trying to murder the poor wretched creatures. 

Feeling the effort to stand was no longer worth it, he slumped to the ground and threw the rest of the stones into the pond with one last frustrated toss. Ron felt like a caged animal.

The Burrow had been nothing but quiet and serene all summer, while Ron knew the outside world was on the brink of explosion. Just like him. On the brink. He felt himself changing, getting ready for something, and it wasn't just…His breath left him in a rush. Hermione.

_Hermione_. To be honest, that was a big part of it, the heart of a change from being obsessed with Quidditch and Chocolate Frog Cards to being obsessed with girls. Not girls. A girl.

Ron wished he had someone to talk to about it. _That_ alone was new. Ron Weasley, wanting to talk. About his feelings. Bizarre. But this just couldn't be normal. Thinking about your best mate _all _day long.

What he really wanted was talk to Harry, _really_ talk to him. None of this distracted bullshite. None of these terse, impersonal letters that were, frankly, an insult to their friendship.

Ron knew he was being selfish. He knew that Harry was dealing with some really huge shite right now. He knew he should be worried about his best mate, god knew the rest of his family was. Ginny moped about it morning, noon, and night. 'Poor Harry blah blah blah.'

Thing was, sometimes, Ron couldn't bloody care less. If Harry wanted to pout and ignore them, making Ginny and Mum _and_ Hermione cry then he could just take a flying leap for all Ron cared.

Harry wasn't the only one with baggage. He wasn't the only one at the Department of Mysteries that night. Hermione had almost died for god's sake. Hermione had almost died and every night, in Ron's nightmares she did die. Every _bloody_ night.

It had gotten so bad that Ron had almost asked his mum for her special tea, but then he would have had to tell her why he wanted it, and _that_ was the last thing he needed.

Ron flopped back onto the grass and closed his eyes. Maybe he'd try for a nap. The sleep he got during the daytime was always much better than the sleep he got at night. Probably because his daytime dreams about Hermione were of a completely different nature, a more pleasurable nature.

A perverted nature, true, but pleasant all the same. He smiled, giving himself over to his new favorite pastime. Ron imagined Hermione walking toward him, across the yard wearing only a small sundress…

No. He remembered that his last owl from her was from the beach where she was on holiday. Mmm, Hermione in a bikini. He imagined her sprawled out on the sand, lying on her stomach. She'd be reading, of course, so intently that she wouldn't hear him approach. She'd have her hair pulled up in a knot, but it wouldn't be tamed. Sweaty curls would be escaping everywhere.

Hermione wouldn't notice him until he'd leaned over her and pressed his lips against her moist, sun-kissed back. She'd gasp and turn over. She'd be breathing heavily, so her breasts would be heaving, spilling out of her bathing suit. Ron wouldn't be able to stand it. He'd have to touch them. He'd run his fingertips over the soft, smooth skin and she'd let him. Encouraged, he'd cup her breasts in his hands. She'd moan and….

Shite. Whose bright idea was it to do this out here? Now, he was painfully aroused and could do nothing about it. Ron opened his eyes, blinking at the sun. He willed himself to calm down enough to go up to his room and finish the fantasy properly.

As Ron sat up, he caught sight of Hedwig flying in the kitchen window. Groaning, he wondered if he even wanted another depressing letter from Harry. He dragged himself to his feet. No use putting it off. Maybe if the letter was bad enough he'd have a good excuse to go to his room and have his mum leave him alone.

He made his way across the garden and into the house. Ginny sat at the kitchen table reading a long letter. When she looked up at him, Ron raised his eyebrows in question. _That_ couldn't be from Harry?

Ginny shook her head in answer to his silent question. "This one's from Hermione. _That's_ from Harry." She flicked a letter at him.

Ron picked it up the single piece of parchment and read the few lines. He threw it down in disgust and picked up the two unopened letters on the table. He tore open Harry's first. It was almost exactly the same as Ginny's, his fist tightened around the parchment. Ron made it into a ball and tossed it angrily across the room.

His mother's eyes flashed and she opened her mouth to reprimand him, but then she looked him over and sighed, going back to her housework. Ron sullenly threw himself into a chair and opened Hermione's letter.

_Dear Ron, _

_I received my letter from Harry today. He didn't even mention the treats and such I sent him for his birthday. It was terribly discourteous of him and not at all like Harry. We need to find a way to get him out of there. He's clearly horribly depressed…_

Ron scoffed, how could she tell he's depressed? No one could tell anything from those bloody letters.

_As soon as I get back from holiday, I'll try to convince my parents to let me come to the Burrow._

Ron's heartbeat quickened. It was about bloody time.

_Once we put our head's together, I'm sure we'll think of something. My parents are a worry though. They've begun complaining that I'm never home, which, I suppose, is true._

He groaned.

_Torquay is beautiful and the weather is brilliant, though I'm finding the beach rather dull…_

Images of her in a bathing suit came back. And ideas of how to soothe her doldrums.

_The cottage we're staying at once belonged to a witch 200 years ago by the name of Bess Butterflower. I'm really enjoying researching the history of this place._

_My Parents wouldn't let me bring The Legend and Legacy of The Empath. They said that I shouldn't be translating on holiday, but it's left me rather restless. It would be much more fun if you were here, and Harry and Ginny, of course._

Ron wanted nothing more. Though, he could leave out the Harry and Ginny part. It would kinda put a damper on the whole fantasy…

_If we could just be together again, I know everything would be all right again._

_I miss you._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

I miss you. Love, Hermione.

The words repeated themselves over and over in Ron's head, his heart beating erratically. It didn't _mean_ anything, did it? She probably wrote that to everyone. He turned to Ginny and tried to sneak a peak at her letter to see how Hermione had signed it. Ron's eyes narrowed as he saw her flip through page after page of letter.

"Hey, how come your letter is longer?" Ron demanded accusingly, trying to push down the hurt and disappointment he felt.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Probably because Hermione knew you couldn't deal with four pages detailing the _fascinating_ cabin she's staying at, as well as the life and times of one Bess Butterflower. Don't know why she thinks _I_ care?" Ginny scanned the pages. "Oh, look, gasp, it's even attached to the Floo Network."

"What!" Ron roared, snatching the letter out of her hand. "She's been in a cabin with a Floo for a week and she didn't tell me!" He frantically looked over the page, not really seeing anything. "Hermione could be here tomorrow, even if it's just for the afternoon. Right, Mum?"

"Mmm? Oh, yes. Of course, dear. Of course."

"Hedwig still here?" Ron asked, grabbing parchment and a quill. Ginny nodded looking at him as if he were a loon. Ron started scribbling:

_Hermione,_

_I can't believe you didn't tell me you were attached to the Floo Network. You have to visit tomorrow. Tell your parents I… we need you. You can be back at the cabin before dinner, if they insist._

Ron paused, not sure how to sign the letter. 'Love' was too out of character for him, but what… He was wasting too much time. He scribbled a simple '_Ron'_ and folded the letter, addressing the envelope. Then he reconsidered and opened the letter back up, scribbling at the bottom:

_P.S. I miss you, as well._

He shoved the letter into the envelope. "Hedwig, come here." He placated the bird by giving her a biscuit as he attached the letter. "Take this _straight_ to Hermione."

"Ron!" Ginny admonished. "You have your own ruddy owl. You can't send Hedwig back without a letter for Harry."

Yeah, like Ron was going to trust Pig with this. He needed it to get there _today_. "Fine." He grabbed another piece of parchment.

_Harry,_

_You're not bloody fine! Stop being such a bloody idiot and get your arse to the Burrow._

_Ron_

"Happy?" he asked his sister.

Ginny glanced at the letter as he folded it, exclaiming, "Ron." She slapped him on the arm. "I can't believe you." But she was laughing and Ron knew that a part of her wanted to say the same thing.

He attached the second letter to Hedwig's scaly leg. "Now remember, straight to Hermione first."

* * *

Hermione sat in a beach chair, next to her parents, on the sandy coastline of Torquay. She stretched out her legs so that the lower half of her body was out of the shadows of their large beach umbrella and could be warmed by the sun. 

She was leaning back with her eyes closed, but she cracked her left eye open to peer at her mother who, as predicted, was glaring at her bare legs with disapproval. Hermione waited to see if she would comment, but her mother merely tutted and shook her head as she went back to her book.

Hermione bit her lip to keep from smiling. She had heard the long diatribes about the dangers of the sun since before she could talk. She had endured the copious amounts of suntan lotion and the series of ugly hats. So, why her parents had decided to drag her to the beach for a two-week holiday was beyond her comprehension.

The Doctors Granger's parenting choices this summer had been odd, to say the least. They had decided to forgo their usual family holiday to a historic cultural site for sunny Torquay so Hermione could 'relax' and 'be a normal teenager.'

After a lifetime of encouraging her to avoid any 'frivolous activities' in favor of 'enrichment,' _now_ her parents expected her to lie on the beach and flirt with strange boys? Yet, she was to remain completely out of the sun while doing so, of course. Maybe she was also supposed to flirt with boys in an enriching, _non-frivolous_ way.

Well, Hermione was bored out of her mind. Thank heavens for the German Language CDs now in her Discman. Just because her parents wouldn't let her do any actually translating didn't mean she couldn't prepare.

Though Hermione did feel a tad guilty for listening to the CD. She knew her parents thought it was classical music. In a way, she was being too hard on her mother and father. None of this was their fault. They were just trying to reconnect with her as best they knew how.

The Grangers were quiet, unassuming people. They enjoyed books and culture and solitude. They had a few friends who were just like them, but otherwise they kept to themselves and very much fancied it that way. They weren't very good at connecting with people in general, not the mention a daughter with magical powers who was growing up quickly in a place they could never visit.

Her parents had no idea that Hermione came close to dying six weeks ago. They thought she had been relaxing after exams, not embroiled in battle next to the people who meant more to her then life itself. They didn't know that one of their number had been murdered that night. They didn't even know that her best friend was in a self-imposed exile, where he was withering away, probably punishing his friends for last summer when he felt they had abandoned him.

Her parents couldn't understand that there was no point in flirting with boys on the beach, as Hermione was already completely in love with her _other_ best friend.

How could they know any of this? She spent an absurd amount of time trying to shield them from it. It was no wonder that Hermione felt so isolated from her parents. Home didn't even feel like home anymore. She wished she were at Hogwarts, or Grimmauld Place, or the Burrow…

Hermione took a deep breath and pulled out a batch of letters from her beach bag. Flipping through Harry's cold letters, she felt a familiar rage. She had long since directed all her frustration and anger at Harry's predicament at one person, Harry's betraying cousin. This gave her not only an outlet for her rage, but a place to focus her mental energy.

She reread Ginny's letters. They had been detailing everything that they could remember about Adrianna and the Empath texts that they had read at Hogwarts. The letters were filled with speculation and theories about why that woman came into Harry's life in the first place, and what kind of threat she could be in the future.

So far, they had come up with very little. Yet, Hermione had faith that they'd figure it out, eventually.

"Dear," Mrs. Granger whispered to her. Hermione started, looking up and pulling off her headphones. It wasn't until then that she realized that she hadn't really been listening to the disk and hit 'stop'.

"Dear, is that your owl?" Her mother asked with obvious embarrassment. As supportive as her parents tried to be, obvious displays of Hermione's 'differentness' flustered them. The Grangers didn't enjoy attention. _Different_ always brought attention.

Hermione looked over to see Hedwig land and perch on the arm of her deck chair. She frowned, stroking the beautiful bird. Uneasily, she removed the letters from Hedwig's outstretched limb. This was strange. She had already received a letter from Harry this morning.

She recognized Ron's messy scrawl and her heart rate increased. Noticing one letter was for Harry she gave it back to Hedwig, who took flight before Hermione had a chance to thank her, obviously anxious to get back to her master. At least Hedwig had access to Harry.

Hermione turned Ron's letter over in her hands, looking anxiously at her parents. "I'm going for a walk," she said absently as she stood.

"Oh…um, all right then," her mother sputtered as Hermione walked toward the water. "Hermione, dear!"

The girl looked back to see her mother holding out Hermione's large floppy hat and her bathing suit cover-up. She suppressed the urge to resist and went back, jamming the ugly hat on her head and wrapping the shawl around her waist. Clearly, her modest one-piece bathing suit was not modest enough.

Hermione walked some distance down the waters edge before she found a quiet place near a rock formation where she could read her letter and not have to cautiously temper her reactions.

She opened the letter with care and scanned the messy words. An almost hysterical laugh erupted from of her. The letter was almost as short as one of Harry's, but it was anything but cold.

Heavens, Ron made her so confused. She had been trying to figure out where she stood with him since he told her she was beautiful at the train station. It wasn't easy when all she had was letters. It wasn't as though he was _open_ about his feelings.

But then there were letters like _this_. Letters demanding her presence, showing her he missed her better than a hundred 'I miss you's ever could. And it all led to dangerous expectations. After all, Hermione could be seeing just what she wanted to see. Ron was never perfectly explicit about anything. She could just be setting herself up for heartbreak.

It didn't matter, not really. Her decision from the last night in the hospital wing stood. Whatever Ron needed from her, she'd give. Whatever he was willing to give her, she'd take. She loved him. Hermione might not ever feel just this way about anyone again and she wasn't going to waste the opportunity. She'd just have to start storing up the memories now.

Hermione looked down at Ron's letter. She wanted to go to the Burrow so badly it hurt, but it was more than a matter of convincing her parents. She was in the middle of a Muggle beach village, Floo or no Floo. She didn't have any Floo powder, and without that, the connection to the Network was useless. What's more, she didn't have any idea how to get some. She didn't even know where to find an owl to send Ron a letter.

She was completely stranded from the wizarding world. Hermione would just have to wait until someone else wrote her again. Imagining Ron's reaction when she didn't show up tomorrow with no reply to his letter, made her restless and agitated.

Damn it, she hated being in the Muggle world. She hated it. She hated it. Hermione didn't belong here. Maybe when she didn't show up, Ron would just Floo to her, just to tell her off. Ron, with her, on the beach…

Hermione walked over to the water and stood with her feet in the ocean, being lapped by the tide. She wrapped her arms around herself and imagined that they were his arms around her, holding her tightly against him, his breath against her cheek, like it had been at the train station. His lips against her cheek, her neck, her…

Maybe _then_, the beach wouldn't be so bad.

* * *

Dolohov's wand was pointed at Hermione. Ron yelled to her, but she didn't move, didn't raise her wand. He heard the Death Eater say the words clearly, slowly, distinctly, "_Avada Kadavra."_

Ron couldn't move. He yelled, "Hermione, no!" He struggled to run to her, but a dozen hands restrained him, held him back from her. He screamed and screamed, but to no avail. Ron watched her fall, slowly, to the floor. All the while Dolohov laughed.

He turned to his captors, sobbing, begging them to let him go to her. Ron found all five of his brothers holding him back, with blank emotionless expressions. He turned back to Hermione, but the scene had changed. They were in a funeral home and a casket stood where Hermione had fallen.

"_No_! No, she is _not_ dead! Let me go!" he bellowed at his brothers, but the restraining arms wouldn't budge.

Harry and Ginny were up by the casket and he called to them for help, but they didn't answer. They looked down into the casket. They seemed bored. Harry yawned and whispered something into Ginny's ear. She shrugged carelessly and wove her arm through his. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. Harry turned and pushed her up against the casket, crushing his lips to hers in a disgusting open-mouthed kiss that Ron's sister returned enthusiastically.

He pulled harder at his brothers' arms, roaring every obscenity he could think of at Harry, hollering Hermione's name. Finally, Ron broke away and began running and running and running…

Then he was running through a cemetery on a bright summer's day. He saw a cluster of redheads in the distance where a casket was being levitated into the ground. Ron was out of breath and his lungs burned, but still he ran, screaming. "It's not true. She's not dead. Don't do it…"

When he finally arrived, his family was walking away and the grave was covered. Harry turned to him and shrugged casually. "Too late, mate. She's gone for good." He pivoted and walked away.

Ron fell to his knees sobbing, digging at the soil with his bare hands. He knew Hermione was down there. She was trapped…

When he finally awoke from his nightmare he jumped from his bed, needing to get as far away from his dream as possible. Running a hand over his face, he found it drenched with tears. Crap! He hated it when he cried. Weak, that's what he was.

Ron paced his small bedroom feeling trapped and desperate. He could hear his own heart thundering in his ears and found himself tugging at his hair until it hurt. He needed to see Hermione. He needed to see her _now_.

He considered using magic and to hell with the consequences, but how? Ron didn't know how to Apparate, he'd splinch himself for sure… Then he remembered. Hermione was attached to the Floo Network. He could Floo over to her cottage, make sure she was all right, and be back before anyone was the wiser.

Ron grabbed a t-shirt and headed for the door.

* * *

Ginny wasn't sure exactly what woke her up, but judging from the moonlight filtering in her window it was _not_ the sounds of the household waking for the morning. She flipped over and snuggled back into her pillow, determined to go back to sleep. 

She heard a soft thud above her and then footsteps. Her heart accelerated and she sat up, listening warily. The twins had the room above her, but they had moved into their own flat a month ago, after the whole 'Angelina's knickers' incident. Ron was two floors up and her parents, two floors down. They were _supposed_ to be the only people in the house.

A floorboard creaked on the stairs and Ginny leapt out of bed, rummaging for her wand. If this was Ron's idea of a joke, she was going to annihilate him. She placed her ear on the door. Hearing nothing, she slowly opened it.

She'd just creep down and wake her parents. If it was just Ron, then he deserved her mother's wrath for scaring her like this.

As Ginny slipped out the door, a sound drew her eyes to the stairs leading to the fourth floor. A black robed figure raised a wand and pointed it at her. That was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

Author's Note: 

Torquay is a real place. They called it the "British Riviera" and it sounded like a place that might have a 200 year-old cottage. If someone has been there and it's not what I imagine, I apologize. The only place I've been to in Britain is London. I've been to the real Rivera, but didn't seem logical that that would be attached to the Floo network. Thanks for reading.

Special thanks to kjcp and Texasmagic at CM for betaing this story


	11. Chapter Eleven

* * *

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this story, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of June, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated,_ and is rated R.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Ron dusted the soot off of his pajamas as he climbed out of the fireplace and into the kitchen of Butterflower Cottage. He surveyed the warm rustic room, a pristine throwback to two hundred years ago, except for the few bizarre Muggle devices scattered about. They looked ridiculously out of place. 

Hermione had breakfast in this room. She used those foolish Muggle thingies. Maybe she even wrote Ron's letters on this table. And she was sleeping somewhere in this house.

He was going to see her in just a few minutes. All the air left Ron's lungs, as an anxious fluttering settled in his stomach. His hand trembled as he pulled Ginny's letter from Hermione out of the waistband of his pajamas bottoms, the one his sister had so thoughtfully left on the kitchen table.

Ron couldn't understand why he was so nervous. It was just Hermione for god's sake. His best mate, the one who he'd spent the last five years seeing almost daily. It was _just_ Hermione.

He squinted at her neat and precise handwriting. The barmy girl had described the whole bloody cottage. She might as well have drawn a map. He smiled to himself. What would he do without her?

According to the letter, Hermione was sleeping in the loft and the stairs were… off the kitchen. That was convenient. Ron forced himself to take a deep breath as he made his way through the darkened room and up the stairs.

At the top, there was a single door. Ron held his breath and reached out for the doorknob. For a moment he faltered, his hand hovering mid-air. What the _bloody hell_ did he think he was doing? He was about to sneak into Hermione's room in the middle of the night. She was going to flay him alive.

But filet or not, at least he'd get to see her. Taking advantage of the rush of desperate courage that filled him, Ron quickly turned the knob and slipped through the door, closing it behind him. When he turned and saw her, he almost wept just like the poncey fool he was.

Ron knew he missed her, but... God, how he'd missed her. He closed his eyes and opened them again to make sure she wouldn't disappear. It had been one damn _long_ summer.

Hermione lay on her back on the narrow wooden bed, a halo of curls framing her peaceful features. It was a warm summer night and she had kicked off her quilt. Ron could see her bare feet and legs. She was wearing light-blue cotton short pajamas. They probably weren't _supposed_ to be sexy.

Had she always been _this_ beautiful? Surely not, how would he have got anything done over the last five years? He would never have been able to leave Hermione alone with another bloke. Ron was going to have to watch the smarmy bastards closely this year.

He moved toward her, watching her steady breath, reveling in each restless motion. She looked so _alive_. Ron should be satisfied with that and leave, but for some reason his legs kept moving in the direction opposite to the door.

"Ron," she muttered.

He froze. Bloody hell, he'd woken her. He should have left. He shouldn't have come. What was he going to do now? Shite. Shite. Shite.

But minutes passed and Hermione didn't open her eyes. "I couldn't…." she murmured, eyes firmly shut. Ron let out a breath of relief. She was only dreaming.

"Ron," she moaned, making his heart speed up to a frightening pace. "I wanted to come…."

Was she dreaming about him? Oh god, Hermione _was_ dreaming about him. Was it a good dream? _Please_, let it be a good dream.

"Ron," she groaned, low and husky.

His eyes widened. Holy shite! That tone of voice… Was it a sex dream? About Ron? No way! Now, he _really_ needed to leave. He should run out of this room and get himself back to the Burrow as fast as was magically possible.

Yeah, right. There was _no way_ Ron was leaving without finding out what Hermione was dreaming about. Carefully, he sat on the edge of her bed. He didn't want to wake her. He just needed to gather a few clues. Hermione was flushed. "Ron, please," she said again.

The way she said it made him instantly hard. Could she really be having an erotic dream about him? Just the idea that Hermione would have _any_ sort of sex dream was incredibly arousing, but for it to be about Ron? That was just…. Wow.

Hermione moved her head restlessly on her pillow, causing a curl to fall onto her face. Why did he have the urge to brush it away? Stupid, daft thing to do. He knew what happened when he touched her. He lost all control. But obviously Ron had already lost control, because his hand was sweeping her cheek, tucking a frizzy curl behind her ear.

The expected cascade came on quickly. He was acting instinctively. No voluntary control was left over his body. Her lips moved and he leaned closer to hear better, even as he told himself not to. He couldn't stop thinking that her skin was so soft. Was that natural? Ron had to feel it again.

As he laid his hand on her cheek her eyelids fluttered and Ron froze. In that moment, he wanted her to wake up. Wake up and talk to him. Rail at him maybe, but he needed to hear her voice. He had missed her so bloody much.

Hermione's eyes opened and met his. Ron hadn't realized how close he'd leaned in. She smiled a dreamy smile and it occurred to him that she wasn't fully awake. Then she reached up and put her small hands on either side of his head.

Ron had no idea what was happening. He had a brief moment of panic when he felt her pull his head down to hers. This couldn't _really_ be happening. Hermione wasn't _actually_ kissing him?

But then their mouths were pressed together and her lips were soft and full. Wow. Who knew that the feel of two sets of lips, pressed together, no movement, no finesse, could feel so bloody brilliant? Wow. This was actually happening.

Snapping out of his shock, Ron realized that Hermione wasn't pulling away. Move, Idiot! Terrified, he took his own advice and brushed his lips across hers. Just once. An experiment. Please, let this be ok.

She hummed, a soft pleased sound, which made Ron swell with pride. Well, he was swelling with more than just pride when she began to respond. Soon their lips were fluttering against each other's in a brilliant sort of rhythm that held no rhythm at all. Hermione lightly sucked at his mouth. Blimey, the woman was a bleeding genius.

All right then. They were really, really kissing. Ron had better make sure he didn't mess it up. He tilted his head to the side to try for a better angle, tangling his hands in her curls. He tried to remember every person he'd ever seen kissing, every moving picture in Mum's secret stash of novels, every dirty picture he ever stole from an older brother…He _should_ be able to figure out what to do. Ron had visualized kissing Hermione often enough.

In the end, however, the feel of her responding was too much and he lost himself in the sensation. He allowed instinct to take over, permitting him to increase the pressure. And amazingly they started to move in tandem. Hermione's head fell back into her pillow and he followed. The kiss just kept going and he could help the moan that spilled from him.

Too soon, Hermione tore away from him and pushed at his chest. He fought it, not wanting to stop, wanting the kiss to last forever.

"Hermione," Ron said just to remind himself that it was really her, that it really happened. His eyelids opened slowly and found himself drowning in her incredible intelligent eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips swollen. There had never been anyone _this_ stunning.

"Ron, what are you doing here?"

Ah shite!

* * *

Hermione was sitting on the beach, her feet being lapped by the tide. A warm breeze blew her sundress around her knees and whipped her frizzy curls across her cheeks. The sun had long since set and she was alone. The world held that hazy unreal quality that led her to believe she must be dreaming. 

She felt him before he touched her, before she heard him approach. "Ron," Hermione breathed, without turning. Such a lovely dream. She thought she'd stay for awhile.

"You didn't come," Ron said softly, his breath close to her ear.

"I couldn't---" Hermione tried to explain, turning toward him.

"Shhh," he murmured, halting her, as she felt his body sitting behind her. His arms encircled her waist, his legs slid on either side of hers. His cheek pressed tightly to her temple, keeping her face looking forward, out toward the ocean.

"Ron," she moaned, as she felt his lips slid across her temple, her cheek, her neck.

"I waited for you at the Burrow," he breathed against her skin.

She turned to look in his beautiful eyes. "I wanted to come---"

Ron interrupted her by seizing her mouth with his. He did that a lot in her dreams. It was lovely. Hermione moaned and her eyes fluttered shut as the kiss became more and more intense. He laid her back onto the beach.

Hermione groaned when his lips left hers. "Ron." She tried to open her eyes but they were glued shut. She tried to reach for him, but her arms were lead. All she could manage was a whimper, "Ron, please."

She felt him brush her hair away from her face and that simple touch was so much more intense than any that had come before. More real. Ron cupped her cheek. It was…incredible, but why wouldn't he kiss her again?

She wanted to see him. She _needed_ to see him. Concentrating all her effort, Hermione managed to wrench her eyes open. Everything was blurry and out of focus. She blinked to clear her vision and found herself gazing into Ron' amazing cobalt eyes. Eyes filled with intensity and heat.

Bliss filled her at the sight of him. She knew she must be smiling like a fool. Still, she didn't understand why he wasn't kissing her. Well, she was tired of waiting for him. This time when Hermione reached for him her arms moved readily. She cupped his head in her hands and pulled his lips back to hers.

The contact was jolting, the experience more powerful than before, even though it was chaste in comparison. Before, when Ron had kissed her, he had seemed self-assured, practiced. He knew exactly when to move his lips. He had pressed forward with demanding confidence.

Now, his lips... They were timid and shy, applying the barest of pressure. Ron paused as if savoring the feel of her as he twined his hands in her hair. This… _this_ was a first kiss. But that didn't make sense. They had just been kissing. Suddenly, Hermione was confused. What was going on?

Ron moved his lips, and she forgot to think. The kiss was almost reverent, just the softest brushes. Pleased with the sensation, she moaned and carefully parted her lips, letting them glide. It was odd, even _her_ lips didn't seem to be moving as surely as they had before.

Hermione found his bottom lip between hers and instinctively sucked. This seemed to encourage Ron and he groaned, tilting his head to the side. His mouth moved with increasing confidence, each successive slide was bolder, his lips wider, the tip of his tongue just grazing her mouth.

She tried to keep up, mimicking his movements, allowing intuition to take over. Hermione was getting warm all over. A strange, unfamiliar, ache was developing in her pelvis. One thought formed in her mind… This was _quite_ the first kiss.

First kiss. This was her _first_ kiss. With Ron. The reality of the situation washed over her, the stark vividness of the sensations she was feeling. This wasn't a dream, not any more.

Her eyes snapped open. Hermione was in the cottage at Torquay, in her bedroom…and Ron was really here. Really kissing her. Oh heavens.

Hermione pulled back from his lips, but Ron followed her. She gave in and allowed herself to just enjoy the feel and taste of him for a moment more. This _was_ her first real kiss after all.

She heard Ron moan and it triggered a bolt of sensation that shot straight to an as yet unknown spot in her groin. The intensity of it frightened her, giving Hermione the strength to tear her lips from his and push his shoulders back.

He resisted her, wouldn't go far, but it was far enough for her to look at his face. Ron was flushed and breathing raggedly. As his eyelids fluttered open he sighed, "Hermione."

Her heart flipped over. The look in his eyes was glassy and intense, she had seen it before, but hadn't known what it meant. "Ron," she whispered, confused. "What are you doing here?"

Panic flashed on Ron's face. His eyes cleared and he sat up, pulling away from her, making her hands drop away from his hair. She shouldn't have said anything. She should have just kept kissing him.

Ron ran his hands over his face and through his hair, his eyes darting around the room apprehensively. Hermione drew her knees up to her chest, for protection. "God, Hermione I…" his voice was hoarse as he trailed off.

"Ron you're in my room, in the middle of the night, in Torquay. Why?" Hermione congratulated herself on how rational she sounded. Though she _had_ left out the most important question. _Why_ was he kissing her?

He met her gaze. "Hermione, I'm sorry for---"

Please, please don't be sorry for the kiss.

"---for waking you."

Hermione had to laugh. She smiled at him affectionately, her breathing returning to normal. "Ron, is something wrong? What are you _doing_ here?"

He looked away from her, then stood up and started to pace. The attic room had a low ceiling and Ron's head almost grazed the rafters with each pass. He resumed his nervous face rubbing.

Hermione was starting to get uneasy about more than just the kiss. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. What could be so bad that it would bring him here, in the middle of the night? "Tell me what happened," she insisted. When he didn't respond she called, "Ron!"

He paused at Hermione's sudden yell. Looking at her, he shook his head frenetically. "Nothing. Nothing happened…"

She gave a laugh of disbelief.

"I just…I just had a nightmare again, is all. I needed to see you." Ron wouldn't meet her eyes.

Would a nightmare be enough to bring him here? And what about the kiss? Hermione took in his tired, agitated appearance and remembered what his nightmares were like back at Hogwarts. If they had worsened, Ron might be desperate enough to do something stupid. For example, sneak off to Torquay in the middle of the night.

"Ron." Hermione held out her hand to him. "Come here," she commanded softly.

As Ron stared at her, his lower lip began to tremble. Instead of coming over to sit next to her as she had intended, he stumbled to her and fell to his knees. He refused to look up. Hiding his head in his hands, he let out an agonizing sob.

Her heart shattered. Tears sprang to her own eyes, as she was infused with a sense of profound horror. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had seen Ron cry. In his dreams, yes, but not awake. Had she _ever_ seen him cry? Surely she had.

"Please, Ron," Hermione entreated, her throat thick. She lifted his hands off of his face and he met her concerned gaze. The pain in his eyes was almost too much for her. He opened his mouth to say something, but in the end just shook his head.

Hermione couldn't find any words of her own so she wiped away his tears with her thumbs. She couldn't tell if it was the right thing to do because his breath hitched and he dropped his head onto her legs. Sobbing in earnest now, he clutched at her thighs and buried his head in her lap.

Hermione looked at the ceiling, fighting her own sobs. She _knew_ she had never seen Ron cry like _this_. After a moment of internal struggle, she was able to gain control of herself, and she sifted her hands through shaggy ginger locks. "Shhh," she murmured, trying to be comforting, but knew her own voice was too anguished to do much good.

"I couldn't get to you," Ron murmured into her legs, making the tears that had pooled in her eyes spill over and drop onto his hair. "I tried so hard. They said you were dead, but I didn't believe them---"

"Shhh, I'm here now. You got to me. I know you'll always come…" Her voice cracked and died away. She curled herself over him. Burying her lips in his unkempt red mane, she kissed his crown. Then she found didn't have the strength to sit back up, so she stayed that way, bent over him.

After awhile, Hermione wasn't even sure what she was crying about, except that she couldn't stand seeing Ron like this. Maybe she just needed a good cry. She straightened up and smoothed his hair, marveling at how soft it felt. His sobs died down, and he moved his head to lie cheek down on her lap, his hands leaving her thighs to lightly circle her waist.

Ron sighed and for a moment he looked peaceful and innocent. There was no sign of embarrassment over his tears. Hermione lightly traced the lines of his face, his eyelids, hairline. Looking closer she took the deep bags under his eyes. "How long has it been since you slept?"

Ron smiled wryly. "How long has it been since we left the hospital wing at Hogwarts?"

She let out a long slow breath. "Oh, Ron, why didn't you say anything? We've exchanged dozens of owls."

All she got for an answer was a shrug. Hermione could have kicked herself. She should have known. She should have _asked_. She should have _insisted_ that her parents allow her to go to the Burrow. "Can you tell me about the nightmares?"

He shrugged again, rubbing his face against the cotton of her shorts, the way Crookshanks did when he wanted attention. For a moment, Ron looked like the little boy on the train again.

"Are they always about me?" Hermione asked in a small voice. Ron squeezed his eyes tight and nodded. She swallowed, impulsively asking, "Do you want to stay tonight?" She held her breath and waited for the answer. She couldn't believe she had actually offered.

Ron finally lifted his head and really met her gaze. Heavens, she loved his eyes. She could stare at them forever. "Really?" he asked in a small, hopeful voice, searching her face. Hermione smiled shyly and nodded.

"But what about my mum?"

She took a deep breath, "No one knows you're here, then?" It was dangerous of him to come alone.

Ron shook his head. Hermione considered him carefully. "Ron, when you came over…" She bit her lip, feeling cowardly. "How did you get here?"

"Floo."

"What exactly were you going to---?"

"I was planning on slipping in here, seeing that you were all right and then Flooing home, no one the wiser." He smiled his heart-stopping, lopsided smile, the one with just a touch of self-reproach.

"Not even me?"

His smile turned guilty. "That was the _original_ plan."

But instead there had been a kiss. Had Ron kissed her or had she kissed him? Where had the dream ended and the reality began? Did Hermione just take him off guard? Had he really _wanted_ to kiss her? How were they going on as if something monumental to their friendship _hadn't_ occurred?

Hermione wanted to talk to him, to find out what happened… But looking at his sad, weary face she just couldn't. "Stay. We can get you back to the Burrow in the morning before anyone knows you're gone." Hermione couldn't resist stroking his face.

Ron leaned into her touch, closing his eyes again. He nodded. Hermione took his hand and pulled him up and onto the narrow bed, gently guiding him so that his back was against the wall, under the window. She stretched out next to him. She tried not to think about the possible ramifications of inviting Ron into her bed.

"How will we wake up?" Ron asked sleepily, though he had already snuggled in and his eyes had closed.

"I'll set the alarm clock." Hermione reached over to do just that. It was difficult, as Ron wouldn't release her right hand.

"What's an alarm clock?"

Hermione smiled as she finished. "It's…" She turned back over to see Ron had already drifted off into sleep. She laid her head down next to his on the shared pillow.

The enormity of the situation hit Hermione. The kiss, Ron, a boy in her bed. Normally, all those things had a clear meaning. Romance. Relationship. Boys and girls, fancying one another. But their lives were anything but normal, and it was so very complicated.

It took Hermione a long time to fall asleep that night.

* * *

When Fred Weasley Apparated into the kitchen of his childhood home it was well after midnight. He hadn't planned on sleeping at the Burrow that night. However, after the traumatic experience of Apparating to his flat from a thoroughly enjoyable date, only to find his twin and said twin's girlfriend sprawled out starkers on the kitchen table… Fred really needed a little distance. 

There was something about seeing one's twin in a sexual situation that went way beyond the ordinary familial heebie-jeebies. It seems, when the image of one's twin shagging his girl pops into one's head it is disturbingly similar to having a fantasy about shagging one's brother's bird.

Fred grimaced, trying to shake off the image. If Angelina wasn't still living at home, he'd have Apparated there to try and shag the image out of his head. That girl _really_ needed a place of her own.

He started to rummage through his mother's cabinets. That was the advantage of home, full cupboards. He helped himself to a Butterbeer and performed a cooling spell on it. He drained it quickly and binned the bottle. Finding a platter of fresh biscuits, he grabbed a handful.

Now that he and George had moved out, there was always a plate of fresh biscuits. Ickle Ronnikins and Ginny-baby were clearly too coddled for their own good. Just because they nearly died every year around finals time didn't mean they should get special treatment. Just the opposite, they could use some toughening.

As Fred started up the stairs, he thought about how a nice prank on his baby brother could really brighten his night and take his mind off less pleasant thoughts.

Should he go with something classic and simple, maybe perform some beauty charms on his nails and face? Bubblegum pink always was Ronny's best color. The spider angle was always enjoyable, as well, when it came to his youngest brother. Though the real money was on a prank that somehow involved Hermione Granger.

Ron and Hermione's little dash for privacy across the train station didn't go unnoticed by Fred and his twin. They had stored away the knowledge. It was a highly valuable commodity that could be used for so many things, not just pranks. Blackmail, for instance, was highly undervalued.

But maybe something simple now. Perhaps, a voice modifying charm to make Fred's voice sound like Hermione. Maybe try to get baby brother to talk in his sleep. Give him some more ammunition. Fred rubbed his hands together in anticipation. The night was looking up.

As he neared the third landing, Fred noticed a rustling noise coming from Ginny's room. When he reached her door he noticed it was opened and that there was definite movement inside. What was she up to in there? Grinning wickedly, he pulled out his wand and quietly pushed open the door.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Ginny was unconscious, suspended in mid-air by what was probably a Mobilicorpus Charm. Her things were a shambles. Leaning over her trunk, going through her things, was a dark hooded figure.

Instinctively, Fred raised his wand, "_Expelliarmus_."

The figure was thrown across the room with a loud crash. Fred saw the swish of a brandished wand and ducked, missing the Stupefying spell that was thrown back at him. Straightening, he prepared to throw another spell, but it was too late, the Death Eater had grabbed a handful of papers and Disappeared.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs and Fred spun, wand pointed at the entrance to the room. He breathed a sigh of relief to see his parents appear, wands at the ready.

"Ginny!" Arthur rushed to his daughter, lifting her and carrying her to her bed.

"Fred!" his mother said with her best admonishing voice. "_What_ did you do?"

Her son rolled his eyes as his arm fell. "You're kidding, right? You're not seriously trying to blame _me_ for this?" His mother's expression didn't change. "There was a _Death Eater_. He just Disapparated!"

A look of terror came over Molly Weasley's face. "Fred Weasley, if this is some kind of joke---"

"Mum!" he bit out angrily. "I would not joke about _that_ and I would not _stupefy_ Ginny!"

"Molly, calm down. We'll figure this out." Their father said softly as he carefully laid his youngest on her bed. "_Enervate_."

Ginny gasped, waking. Fred felt himself go limp with relief.

"Where's Ron?" Molly asked, desperately.

Fear rose again, Fred could only shake his head and shrug at his mother's expectant expression. Why did she think he'd know anyway? He didn't even live here anymore. She should be thanking him. If it hadn't been for Fred, Ginny…

"Do you know where your brother is?" Molly demanded again, making Fred jump.

"No!" he yelled back, feeling helpless as his mother turned and ran out the door. Her footsteps sounded on the stairs above them.

"Molly, wait!" Arthur called, shaking his head. "Sometimes, she has no sense. Fred go with her. There could be more." He turned to his daughter, smoothing her hair. "Ginny, dear, are you all right?"

She looked dazed and confused. She nodded absently. Fred blinked at her, frozen. She could have been taken. She could have been killed.

"Fred! Your Mother!"

Fred's eyes jerked up, but still his body felt like lead. He nodded slowly and started for the door. He was having trouble taking his eyes of his sister.

It took a piercing scream to set Fred into motion. God, Mum. Ron! He ran up the stairs, two at a time. His heart beating erratically, he stumbled into the room at the top of the stairs.

Ron's room was a shambles, much worse than Ginny's. Mrs. Weasley was on her knees sobbing. Fear was threatening to overwhelm him and Fred turned his body in desperate circles, trying to find… He didn't know.

Not knowing what to do, Fred knelt next to his mother and embraced her. He looked up to see his father stumble in, wide-eyed. Father's and son's eyes met in silent understanding and dread as the situation began to sink in.

The Death Eaters had gotten Ron.

* * *

_Special thanks to kjcp and Texasmagic at CM for betaing this story_


	12. Chapter Twelve

* * *

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of July, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_ and is rated R.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Twelve

* * *

**

Ginny felt as if she was underwater, perceiving events through a heavy, invisible barrier. Sitting in a kitchen chair at The Burrow, with her knees to her chest and her feet on the seat of the chair, Ginny wondered if this is what people meant by 'in shock.' She pulled the quilt around her shoulders so it completely cloaked her small frame. If she curled up tight enough would she just disappear? Could anyone really see her anyway?

The first golden rays of dawn were beginning to filtering in. Several hours had passed since her father had revived her and Ginny had been led to the kitchen where she watched as various members of the Order Apparated and Disapparated, trying to figure out what had happened, trying to do damage control, trying to find Ron.

Ron. It just didn't seem possible that he wasn't there. He could be with Voldemort at that very moment, unconscious, hurt…being tortured. It just wasn't real. It couldn't be.

Her eyes were drawn to their grandfather clock for what must have been the hundredth time. Ginny took comfort in the fact that Ron's hand had remained merely on 'lost' and hadn't progressed to 'mortal peril.' Though, that alone was disconcerting. What did that mean, '_lost'_? What did it take to be in 'mortal peril'? If not being kidnapped by Death Eaters, then what? What the hell was that bloody clock thinking?

Mrs. Weasley was bustling about the kitchen at a dizzying pace. Every few minutes she would slam something down, occasionally breaking something. Alicia, George's girlfriend, followed behind her at a careful distance, quietly cleaning up the messes. No one had said anything when she showed up with George in the middle of the night after the Order's distress call was sent out.

George was standing with his father, discussing rumors about the whereabouts of Voldemort and various Death Eaters, bent over a map that Kingsley had brought before Apparating back to the Ministry to dig for more information.

"Ginny? Would you like something to drink?" Alicia asked kindly. The girl shook her head at a strangely slow pace, not looking up. Drinking would take far too much effort.

_Crack._ Tonks appeared in the middle of the kitchen sporting ear-length hair in an interesting greenish blue color. Ginny had the vague thought that it looked good on the young Auror even as it occurred to her how frighteningly easy it was to Apparate and Disapparate from The Burrow. They were _never_ safe here. Why had they been holed away here all summer if it wasn't even safe?

Tonks threw herself into a chair, narrowly missing knocking over a pitcher of juice before Alicia could hastily pull it out of the way. Slouching in the chair, she announced, "Well, Harry's still safe with the Dursleys. Moody's standing guard there until we get word from Dumbledore regarding whether we're going to yank him to headquarters or not."

Harry. With extraordinary effort Ginny turned her head towards Tonks and spoke the first words she had uttered in hours. "How was he?"

Tonks looked confused, "Who?"

Who did she think? This was not the time to act daft. Every word Ginny said stole precious energy. "Harry," she managed in a flat emotionless tone.

"He was the same," Tonks responded as if this was the first time she had thought about Harry's emotional well-being. Well, that's _all_ Ginny thought about.

"How did he take the news about Ron?" she probed further, her voice sounding hoarse to her own ears. Must be from the hours of not talking. Ginny swallowed and licked her overly dry lips.

Tonks' eyes narrowed, as she seemed to think over Ginny's question. Why was it so difficult to answer? 'He raged.' 'He yelled.' 'He threw something.' There weren't an overly large number of reactions in Harry's repertoire.

"He uh…" Tonks scratched her head and shared a look with Mr. Weasley. "He took it surprisingly well."

Ginny shook her head, confused. "What do you mean, _well_?" She was proud that her voice was a bit stronger this time.

"Actually, he didn't react much at all." Tonks swallowed, her face becoming increasingly tense. "He _did_ seem a tad anxious."

A new fear began to break through the fog. Tiny tentacles reaching inside Ginny, making her breathing accelerate bit by bit. "He wasn't angry?" The Harry she knew would have torn the place apart. He would have demanded he be allowed to come to The Burrow at once. Tonks shook her head and about to say more---

_Crack._ _Crack._ Fred and Remus Lupin appeared, their drawn and horrified expressions diverting all attention to them. Without preamble, Remus announced rigidly, "Hermione and her parents are gone."

Ginny found she was suddenly having a hard time breathing. What did they say? Hermione? She didn't understand. It was so hard to think, but wasn't there something…Ginny knew something important about Hermione. A loud crash cut through Ginny's haze and her eyes jerked to the smashed platter at her mother's feet. No one moved to clean it.

"The house was in shambles," Fred said, pale and uncharacteristically serious. Anything horrible enough to put _that_ expression on one of the twins' faces was… But there was something else. Something that wasn't connecting. Ginny knew something important. Oh, yeah. "You went to Torquay?" she asked in a small voice.

The group turned to her in confusion. Fred looked at his twin, then back at her with an expression indicating that he believed she may have endured brain damage. "Why would we go to Torquay?"

Ginny felt a rush of relief, which came out as a hysterical giggle. "You went to her house?" They nodded and she smiled. Hermione was fine. They were looking in the wrong place. That was good. Ron would need her here when he got back. He'd be in a right state if…Oh, god.

"Ginny, love, maybe we should bring you back to bed," her father said in a concerned voice, approaching her.

She heard Tonks whisper to Remus, "She's in shock. Maybe we should---"

"You don't understand," Ginny said more forcefully, shrugging away from her father as he tried to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "Hermione's on vacation at Torquay. She's been there for a week. She's _not_ at home."

Instantly, every person's expression changed. Suddenly, they were looking at her seriously. Not as some baby to coddle, but as someone with valuable information. Remus approached her, smiling a bit in relief, before fixing her with his piercing gaze. "Ginny, do you know where they are in Torquay?"

Ginny stared at him for a moment. She was still a bit slow on the uptake, it seemed. Then she slowly nodded. "Yeah…Yeah, I do. It's in her letter." Her eyes traveled over the surface of the kitchen table. "I left it out… It was right there last night. Where did it…?" Feeling a rush of energy, she sprung from the chair and ran her hand over the table in a frantic manner. "It was _right_ here." Oh god. Oh god. She knew she left it here.

Maybe she moved it and didn't remember, maybe… Reminiscent of her mother's movements moments before, Ginny flittered frantically around the room at an escalating pace, opening and closing drawers, her hand flying over the counter tops. Throwing an angry glance at her mother she demanded, "Did you move it? Did you clean and bin it?"

Molly shook her head, her eyes wide and despondent. "I wouldn't bin one of your letters. I---"

"It was _here_," Ginny cried. If it wasn't here, someone must have taken it, but who…? Oh god. "_They_ must have taken it," she whispered to herself, feeling the tears finally come. The relief she had felt upon realizing Remus and Fred had gone to the wrong place was turning back into terror. "They must have taken it."

One of her brothers came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. It was just in time as her knees buckled and she couldn't catch herself. She would have fallen if it hadn't been for…George, she thought. Not that it really mattered which brother it was. It wasn't Ron. Ginny buried her face in her hands, a sob tearing from her throat.

"Shhh," her brother soothed, pulling her into a chair. It wasn't all together comforting. Seeing George so serious and mature merely emphasized the grave nature of the situation. It was terrifying really. Ginny couldn't handle this. This wasn't really her life. Ron wasn't gone. Death Eaters couldn't have found Hermione. This was just _not_ happening.

"Ginny." Her eyes snapped up at the insistent command to see Remus kneeling in from of her. "Are you sure it was here?"

"Yes," she replied heatedly. Weren't they listening?

"All right." Remus nodded, looking around meaningfully at the other adults in the room, communicating silently. They could say it out loud. Ginny knew what this meant. She wasn't stupid. "Do you remember anything about the cottage?" he asked, once he turned back to her.

Ginny licked her lips, tasting tears. She hated the taste of tears. "Uh... yeah." She had to pull herself together. They needed her to remember. Hermione needed her to. And Ron.

"Hermione is staying at this cottage some old witch owned like 200 years ago. She went on and on about the history, and oh god, the architecture..." Ginny felt like she was going to hyperventilate. "The letter will lead them right to her."

Lupin grabbed her shoulders tightly, almost as if he could physically keep her from falling apart. It wasn't going to work. Wasn't that obvious? "Do you remember the witch's name?"

Name? She did. She knew the name. Crap, what was it? Something really daft. Ginny nodded, biting her lip. "Butter-something…Buttercup…Butterfield…"

"Butterflower," Tonks said with self-assurance, standing, and clutching her wand purposefully. "I know just where it is. We spent plenty of summers in Torquay. I can Apparate there."

"You can't go alone," Remus told her, pulling himself up so he stood over her.

The gesture of paternalism didn't seem to register with Tonks, who merely shook her fluorescent head. "You can't Apparate there unless you've been. It would take too long to---"

"Angelina and I spent time at Torquay earlier this summer. I can at least Apparate to the beach," Fred offered, looking restless and tense, eager jump into the fray. He really wasn't very bright.

Remus looked to Arthur, who took a deep breath and reluctantly nodded. "Go then," Lupin said in clipped tone.

_Crack. Crack._ They were gone. Just like that. Oh god, Ginny hoped they'd find her in time. And no Death Eaters. Please, no Death Eaters. The family couldn't handle another brother missing. And where were Bill and Charlie. Mum had sent owls. Why were they always away when trouble struck?

"Remus," Molly called stiffly, her arms crossed and her posture rigid. "We need to get Ginny and Harry to Headquarters. They aren't safe."

Ginny almost laughed. Of course, they weren't safe. No one was safe. Why was she _so_ special to get extra protection? They were treating her like a ceramic doll. Fragile. Maybe she was. She angrily brushed the tears from her cheeks. She didn't want to be fragile. She _refused_ to be. "I'm fine," she called irritably.

She was ignored, as per usual. Lupin just nodded and walked to the fireplace. "Let me talk to Dumbledore," he said as he ducted his head into the cavity.

"What can I do?" George asked, coming around from behind her, staring at the maps again with frustration apparent on his face.

"You can help your sister pack her and Ron's things," Molly said firmly. "He's going to need…" she drifted off with a catch in her voice, a hand to her chest. Her eyes closed and she took several deep breaths. Still, when she continued, her voice was thick with tears. "We have to bring their trunks to Grimmauld Place. Excuse me. I'm going to pack." She fled the room before the sobs could take her over.

Ginny's eyes followed her, her own lip trembling. The sound of George's fist hitting the table jolted her and snapped her attention back to him. "I want to look for Ron, not sit here like some great poof."

Arthur put a firm hand on his son's shoulder. "We don't know where to look, son." When he turned away he had a dejected look on his face. "I'm going to the Ministry to see if Kingsley found anything."

Mr. Weasley Disapparated just as Remus emerged from the fireplace, rubbing the ashes off his cheeks, only succeeding in smearing them. "Dumbledore agrees. Ginny, you and your mother will Floo over with the trunks. The rest should Apparate. I'm going to get Harry with Alastor." He gave Ginny a reassuring smile and said firmly, "All four of you will be back at Grimmauld Place before you know it."

_Crack. _Remus Disapparated and with him any hope of his feeble reassurances sinking in. Why was this happening, again?

George turned to Alicia and whispered, "Stay here with Mum and Ginny. I'll meet you at Headquarters."

"Where are you going?" Ginny demanded. Why was she the only one stuck here? She wanted to look, as well. _She_ wanted to go get Harry.

George smiled bitterly. "Thought I might rough up my big brother, Percy the ponce, and see if I can get any information out of him. If not, at least I'll know I did my good deed for the day."

"George, no---" Alicia exclaimed. _Crack._

Ginny rolled her eyes. Fat lot of good going to the Ministry would do. Percy couldn't see his own hand in front of his face. He wouldn't recognize useful information if he had it. At least, George would get a chance to blow off some steam. It must be killing him that Fred went without him. If there was a twin left behind, it was almost always George. No one thought it bothered him, but Ginny knew it did.

Left alone, Alicia ran a hand over Ginny's hair. Why was everyone always stroking her as if she was a toddler…or a dog? "Want me to help you pack?" George's girlfriend asked softly.

Yes, please, she couldn't possibly fold her clothes on her own. Feeling suddenly suffocated, Ginny stood up quickly, saying hastily, "No…but can you straighten up the kitchen a bit? Mum could never leave it like this."

Ginny didn't wait for a response. She started up the steps, desperate to be free of that oppressive room and that menacing clock watching over them.

She ran up the stairs, coming to an abrupt halt on her landing, when the image of a Death Eater descending the stairs assaulted her and knocked the wind from her. Taking deep breaths and gritting her teeth, Ginny forced herself to continue up the stairs until she reached Ron's bedroom.

A gasp tore from her throat as she saw the destruction for the first time. Pillows were ripped open, as was the mattress. Books and papers were torn and strewn everywhere. The contents of Ron's trunk and drawers had been emptied in the middle of the floor. If they had treated her brother as roughly…

She collapsed onto the side of his bed. Through the tears, Ginny noticed a picture face-downward on Ron's nightstand and picked it up. It was a picture of Hermione caught unawares at Hogwarts this spring. Her brother's best friend was staring out at the lake, brushing hair out of her face. A corner was torn off. Ginny wondered if it was the result of Death Eaters or Ron's own carelessness.

Clutching what was left of a pillow to her mouth to stifle a sob, Ginny fell over onto the bed. She just hoped, wherever Ron and Hermione were, that they were together.

* * *

Ron woke up feeling more refreshed and happy than he had in months. Mmm. Fuzzy warmth. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be well rested. It was fantastic. It felt like…shooting pain in his right arm.

He blinked open his eyes as he started to feel that his arm was in danger of falling…Holy shite. His breath caught as his eyes focused on the culprit, that being one Hermione Granger, fast asleep on his bicep. Whoa!

Ron was instantly, fully awake. A rush of nervous excitement filled him. He was in bed with Hermione. Crap, what…? Oh no, this wasn't good. Things were moving… It was out of control… What was he going…? Wow, she was pretty.

Ron pushed aside his apprehensive, depressive thoughts. He was going to enjoy this, damn it. When did bloke get a chance like this? If he squandered it, he was as thick as everyone accused him of being. There was a beautiful girl in bed with him for god's sake.

Hermione was lying on her back with her head turned toward him. Ron could feel the wetness of her lips against the skin of his upper arm, warm and slightly slimy. He found it ridiculously arousing. What was wrong with him? It must be the way her right side was pressed snuggly against his, and the way he could just feel the swell of her breast against his t-shirt clad chest. It addled the mind.

But then again, who cared, really? It was worth every lost thought. Ron would gladly go insane to keep doing this, to keep looking at her. He might not ever get this opportunity again. His eyes traveled to where his other arm lay curled over her waist, keeping her pressed tightly against him. Damn, that was skin under his hand.

Oh god, he was touching Hermione Granger's bare skin. Not hand or face skin, but skin usually hidden from the light of day. Skin, right where her waist dipped, where her pajama top had ridden up, just above her shorts. Wow! Just, really wow!

His morning condition became impossibly uncomfortable. What if Hermione woke up to find Ron _fondling_ her, leaning over her like a barracuda, with a huge erection looming over her? No, not huge. He wasn't…he didn't mean that he was overly large or anything. He held his own, but…

Blimey. Ron tried to shift his pelvis away from her to hide the evidence of his teenage lack of control, but it was really difficult since he refused to move either of his hands and lose any other contact. In the end, he shifted back a bit and bent his leg so that it wasn't _too_ obvious.

It worked fantastic, he thought sarcastically. He was so subtle that she started to stir immediately. Ron, smooth as always. Hermione yawned and brushed her face with her fist like kitten. She was so bloody beautiful. Ok, maybe it was ok if she woke up.

Ron wanted to kiss her again so bad that it hurt. Bloody hell, did it hurt. Maybe if he kept kissing her while she was half asleep he could keep getting away with it…If he _had_ gotten away with it, that is. Just because she hadn't given him what for last night, didn't mean that she wouldn't. Hermione was much too good to berate him while he was being as pathetic as he had been last night.

Maybe, he didn't want her to wake up, after all. Shite, what if the kiss had changed things between them and they couldn't go back? What if they did go back and Ron never got to kiss her again? He had to. He had to kiss her again or he'd die.

Ron really was a selfish bastard. A really melodramatic, selfish bastard. He knew Hermione deserved someone better than him, knew that anything he was now contemplating doing to her would ultimately lead to her leaving him forever when someone more _worthy_ came along. But this knowledge seemed to matter less and less with every day that passed.

Maybe Ron would get lucky and Voldemort would kill him before Hermione could leave him.

"Mmm." She stretched and blinked her eyes as she slowly came back to consciousness. The stretch made her shirt pull tightly across her breasts and chased all the dark thoughts from Ron's mind. Hermione's breasts were…fantastic.

Ron had to force his eyes to her face and found her liquid brown eyes blinking sleepily at him. For a moment he was gripped with fear. Was she angry? Would she chuck him out of bed? Rail at him?

A shy smile spread across her face and she murmured, her voice husky, "Morning."

Well, she didn't _seem_ upset. Ron found himself grinning back almost giddily. "Morning, yourself."

Hermione stretched again and as she moved, Ron couldn't help but wince at the icy, sharp pains that shot down his numbed arm where she lay on it.

Immediately, she came up onto her elbows. "Oh Ron, did I sleep on your arm all night long?" Ron shrugged, unable to speak because she was reaching for his arm. "It must hurt something awful." Then she was kneading the muscle and there was one part of him that hurt all right.

"No," Ron managed through a suddenly thick throat. Just don't stop. She had the most talented hands. How would they feel on…_other_ parts? Hermione glanced up at him and he knew he was going to kiss her, awake or not---

A loud pounding on the front door echoed through the quiet of the morning and through the open window over Hermione's bed, causing them both to start. Ron felt his heart rate and breathing speed up in a very different way. A decidedly less _fun_ way.

Hermione clutched his arm painfully. What were they so scared of? It was just the front door. They were acting guilty as sin. Well, they _were_ guilty. Ron turned and looked out the window, down at the front stoop… Shite. Shite. Shite. "Shite!"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in a horrified voice.

He turned and frowned at her. Swearing was the least of their problems. "Fred and Tonks are at the front door."

Hermione's eyes became impossibly wide. "Shite!" She pushed past him to look out the window.

Ron laughed with glee. "Hermione! I never!" He had never heard her use that word. Damn, it sounded sexy.

"Ron. This is _not_ the time," she hissed, biting her lip. Hermione was flustered and breathing hard, her chest heaving. How was a bloke supposed to be serious with a distraction like that?

"What are we going to do?" Hermione whispered.

He frowned, miserably. It looked like his time was up. "I've got to get out of here."

"Well, obviously," Hermione harrumphed. She scrambled out of bed, grabbing his arm and pulling him behind her. At the door, she careful opened it a sliver and peered out cautiously before gesturing for him to follow her, which was simply batty considering the grip she had on his arm.

She dragged him down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Hurry," Hermione urged anxiously, pushing him into the fireplace.

Ron obediently put one foot into the fireplace before he came to himself and paused, looking back at her. This was going too fast. He was leaving too fast.

"Wait." He grabbed Hermione's shoulder. "When am I going to see you again?" He had a sudden sinking feeling, as if it might be never.

"Ron!" Hermione reprimanded, pushing at his chest. "We don't have time!"

"Come to The Burrow this afternoon," he entreated, ignoring her protests. This was important. He _needed_ her.

This made Hermione pause and look up at him. She shook her head despondently. "I can't Ron. No Floo Powder."

What? "No Floo powder?" What the hell did she mean no Floo powder? "Hermione," Ron whispered. "How am I going to get home?"

"You don't have any?" she squeaked.

"People don't bring Floo Powder with them," Ron defended, in an increasingly high-pitched voice. Bloody hell, how _was_ he going to get home? His mother was going to _kill_ him.

The kitchen door opened. "Hermione's room is just up there. I'll just go and--- Oh!" Mrs. Granger stepped into the room and came to a dead stop, her eyes wide, her hand flying to her mouth. Tonks ran into her, causing them both to stumble.

Ron looked over at Hermione, who looked as though she might hyperventilate. What a picture they must make. Him with one foot in the fireplace, _bare_ feet. Both of his hands on Hermione's shoulders. Her hands on his chest. They were _so_ dead.

"What's going on---?" Fred pushed his way around Tonks, who was helping to right Mrs. Granger, his wand at the ready. He froze when he saw the…interesting tableau. "Bloody hell!"

Fred approached his younger brother with long quick strides. Ron hastily stepped out of the fireplace and away from Hermione. He had expected jokes and ridicule, not aggression! What the hell was wrong with his brother!

Ron's shock increased tenfold when instead of pummeling him, Fred clasped him in a tight hug. Ron stood ramrod still and looked at Hermione with wide-eyed confusion. Had Fred gone around the twist? He couldn't remember his older brother _voluntarily_ hugging him, _ever_. Maybe it was a trick. An elaborate joke, maybe?

Fred pulled back. "You bloody little idiot." Then he pulled back his arm and let go a full-on punch to Ron's shoulder.

"Ow," Ron yelled, grabbing his injured arm. "What the hell?" Fred had _clearly_ gone barking.

"Get off of him. What do you think you're doing?" Hermione was trying to pull Fred off of Ron and squeeze between them. "What's wrong with you?"

"Hermione don't!" Ron grabbed her waist with his good arm and attempted to pull her behind him. If Fred had gone nutters, the last thing he needed was him swinging at Hermione. He didn't fancy being forced to commit fratricide.

Fred laughed uproariously, looking over to Tonks who had a relieved and amused look on her face. She broke into hilarity as well, nearly doubling over with it. Hermione looked as though she was ready to spit fire and Ron had to use both arms to keep her from jumping on his brother. And they said _he_ had a temper.

"Relax, poppet. I'm not going to pummel your boyfriend," Fred teased, further inciting her. "Though, I wouldn't miss what Mum's going to do to him. Should be quite a show. Do you have any idea what she and Ginny have been going through?" He became serious again and decided to give Ron a hard shove for emphasis.

"He's not my boyfriend," Hermione protested, even as she attempted to shove Fred back for pushing his brother. Ron tightened his grip on her waist. To hold her back, of course. He was _not_ getting a perverted thrill from this.

Fred gave a barking laugh. "Very convincing, Hermione. Did you notice he's currently feeling you up?" Ron dropped his arms from her waist as if they had been burned, scowling at Fred's smirking face. "While you two were having your little lover's _rendezvous_, the whole Order has been out looking for you."

"It was _not_ a lover's rendezvous," Hermione insisted, red-faced. She stamped her foot in emphasis. She was so sexy when she was belligerent.

"Ron just pop over for a little game of midnight chess, then?" Fred certainly seemed to be enjoying himself.

"No, it was just---"

"Just what, dear?" All eyes turned to Mrs. Granger, who stood with her hand to her chest, as if she might faint at any moment. Damn it. She was never going to let Hermione go to The Burrow now.

Think, man think. Say anything. "Look, Mrs. Granger, I just…" Ron swallowed. "I just had a bad feeling, a nightmare. I wanted to make sure Hermione was all right. Then she didn't have any Floo Powder, so I was kinda stuck here."

Fred sniggered, "Please, you couldn't come up with anything more creative than _that_? Makes me ashamed to say we're blood."

"It's true." Hermione eyes flared at Fred. Then she turned to her mother with a soft, pleading look. "Mum, really. Ron was just looking out for me. He slept on the floor. Honestly, Mum. You _know_ me. Would I do anything…inappropriate?"

Hermione was lying. She was _really_ convincing, but she was lying. To her mum. For Ron. They had kissed and there had been nothing _appropriate_ about it. They had kissed, on her bed, in the middle of the night, and then they had slept the rest of the night _together_. Touching even. And it had been bloody _brilliant_.

"You _do_ believe me, Mum?" Hermione entreated in a wonderfully innocent tone.

Mrs. Granger's delicate features softened. "Of course, I do, sweetheart. I know you're trustworthy." She came over and placed a reassuring pat on Ron's shoulder. "You know how we appreciate the way Ron and Harry look out for you."

Ron did his best to echo Hermione's innocent look, even as he pondered just how gullible Mrs. Granger was. Wow, didn't she understand how sexy Hermione was? How passionate? If Ron's mum had caught them… Blimey, he still had to deal with _his_ mother.

"Let me just go and explain things to your father, so he doesn't misunderstand." Mrs. Granger smiled serenely and walked out of the room. She wasn't much like Hermione, was she?

"Bloody hell, do you have the wool over _her_ eyes?" Fred shook his head in disgust. "I'm going to Apparate to The Burrow and tell Mum we found them," he said to Tonks. "Don't let these two out of your sight. They're slippery."

"I think I can handle them," Tonks drawled in an amused tone. Once Fred had Disapparated she shook her head at them. "You two _really_ did it this time."

Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Hermione didn't do anything," he said in a small voice. He, on the other hand, had made one hell of a mess. All because of the blasted nightmares and his own pathetic lack of control.

"Tonks, what's going on?" Hermione asked with her arms tightly crossed and her face tense. "Something is happening isn't it? That's why everyone is so upset?"

Ron hadn't thought of that. Mum sending an Auror to fetch them was a bit of overkill. What had Fred said about the Order?

Tonks crossed her arms, her expression serious. "Maybe you two oughtta sit."

Hermione just shook her head and took a step toward Ron. "Just tell us," he insisted, feeling himself tense. It was better to get it over with.

Sighing deeply, Tonks finally said, "There's been an attack on The Burrow."

Hermione gasped and turned to Ron, one hand flying up to clutch his shirt. He stared into her eyes, barely able to digest the information. His voice was strangely detached when he asked, "Was anybody---?"

"No, everyone's fine," Tonks reassured, quickly. "Fred found a Death Eater in your sister's room and Ginny Stupefied---"

"What!" Ron roared, starting to step forward, but feeling Hermione's hands on him, he stopped.

"She's fine. Though, you think Fred gave you the what for, mate? Wait till Ginny gets her hands on you. They found your room in a shambles and with you nowhere to be found---"

"They assumed the worst," Hermione finished softly. "Oh, Ron." She leaned into him. He could only clutch his fists in rage and fear as it all sunk in. Death Eaters in his room, in Ginny's room, hurting---

"There's more---" Tonks continued, grimly.

There was a crash behind them from… Shite. Mum.

Molly did not stop to dust herself off, just grabbed her son and Hermione in a bone crushing group hug. "You stupid, stupid boy! What ever did you think you were doing?"

"Mum, I was just trying to protect Hermione," Ron protested quickly. Hey, it had worked with Hermione's mum.

His mother harrumphed, taking his head in her hands and pulling him down for a hard kiss on the cheek, followed by a slap on the head. "Worried about Hermione? Didn't think to wake your father or me? Or maybe leave a note, hmm? What did you think you were going to do for her anyway, in pajamas, no wand, not even of age? Hmm?"

All excellent points. Ron just shrugged and used his best clueless, daft puppy dog look. His only hope was that his mum thought he was just too stupid to know any better. The truth would get him banned from Hermione for the summer.

"Wait, Tonks said there was more," Hermione said anxiously, wringing his hands.

Tonks exchanged an anxious look with Molly. Swallowing, she continued what she had been about to say, "We went to your house, Hermione. First thing after the break in. It had been rampaged, as well. Especially your room."

Ron felt as though someone had just taken a death grip on his heart. If Hermione hadn't been on holiday…. All of a sudden, the story about him coming here to protect her didn't sound so far fetched.

Hermione went pale and slumped against Ron. He put an arm around her for support. "Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Fine, Fine," Molly assured, hands on hips. "Checked this morning. Right where he was supposed to be. Unlike the rest of you." She glared at them meaningfully. "Remus just Apparated over to bring him to Grimmauld Place. Which is exactly where you two are going _right_ now. So, march upstairs, young lady, and pack your things."

Hermione nodded weakly and walked to the stairs. Ron turned to follow her.

"Where do you think you're going?" Molly shrieked, causing her son to jump. "Let the girl put some clothes on first."

Ron turned bright red as he watched Hermione disappear up the stairs. He took a deep breath and told himself to look properly contrite as his mother began her berating, because all he could think about was Hermione being with him for the rest of the summer.

It was hard to keep a smile off his face.

* * *

Ginny was going to _murder_ her brother. Worse than that, she was going to turn him into a newt and put him in a jar. Then hide it in the potions cupboard for Snape to find and use for the eyeball-extracting lesson with the second years. No. That was too good for Ron. She'd have to think of something else.

She paced the length of the kitchen at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, keeping a close eye on the fireplace. Occasionally, Ginny would climb the stairs to sneak a peak at the front door to see if anyone had arrived that way. It wasn't really necessary since she had booby-trapped the front door so that anyone who entered would create such a clatter that Mrs. Black would immediately alert her to his or her arrival.

She couldn't believe that Ron could do this to them, to _her_. Oh, wait, she could. It was just the sort of thing the thickheaded git would do. Ginny even believed his daft story about being worried Hermione. Her brother didn't have the stones to Floo over to his best friend's room in the middle of the night for a snog session.

But he _could_ have told Ginny so that she could cover for him. Ron knows she wouldn't stop him from checking on Hermione. Unless, he was embarrassed. Unless, it really _was_ for a late night snog fest… Yeah, right. Ginny shook her head. That was just crazy talk. If Hermione and Ron had gone _there_, she'd know. They couldn't keep _that_ from her all summer.

Urgh! Where were they? Mum had sent Hermione and Ron home with Tonks and Fred hours ago and Lupin had gone to get Harry even before that.

Ginny needed to see for herself that they were all right. Maybe then this restless energy would dissipate. And besides that, Ginny had something really important she needed to talk to Hermione about. It seemed that the only thing that she could find missing from her room were the letters and notes detailing the Empath research the two girls had done.

Clank. Crash. "Holy shite!"

"If your mother hears you swearing---"

"_How dare you! Rubbish, Common filth. Contaminating the noble home of my ancestors, Blood traitors, sons of refuse_---"

Ginny took off up the stairs in a dead run, reaching the top to see her father pull the curtain over Mrs. Black's portrait and George set down Hermione's trunk. "We should set that bloody painting on fire and see what it does," George muttered irritably.

Ginny's whole body slumped when she saw them. "Oh, it's just you."

"Thanks a lot, little sister," George said with mock hurt in his voice. Then he wagged his eyebrows suggestively. "I reckon you need to be the great Harry Potter to get any love around here."

"George, leave your sister alone." Arthur approached his daughter and gave her a hug. "All right there, Ginny?"

She nodded in response, even though it was a lie. Could gesturing be a lie? Or did you actually have to say the words to be lying?

Ginny thought she heard George mutter, "Mollycoddling," under his breath and ignored him.

Her father wasn't so generous. He and snapped, "George, bring Hermione's trunk upstairs."

"Oh, but father, I wouldn't want to deprive her boyfriend of that privilege. I'm sure he'll want to show off his manliness. What little of it there is---"

"Bloody hell, woman. You call _that_ driving?" Fred griped to Tonks as the door opened and finally, _finally_, Ron and Hermione stepped into the house.

Tonks rolled her eyes, waving Fred off with a flick of her wrist. "I told you that was _not_ a squirrel. It was merely a bump on the road. Since when did you become a ruddy animal activist anyway?"

Ron and Hermione were a complete mess. Ron still had on his too small pajamas that appeared to be covered with soot. His feet were covered by some bizarre-looking floppy Muggle things that looked extremely uncomfortable. Hermione was wearing a dowdy pair of overalls and her bushy hair was back in a puffy ponytail. Her look, a blatant attempt to deny that she even _had_ a sexuality.

Ginny ran to the youngest of her brothers, stopping just short of a hug. Instead, anger overcame relief and she punched him as hard as she could in his arm. "Daft fool!"

"Ow, Gin, that's the second time today," Ron whined.

Satisfied, that she had properly hurt him, she threw her arms around him. "Don't you _ever_ do that again," Ginny commanded into his breastbone.

"That's my girl. See that, Fred. That's the way it's done. Hit first, then hug."

"So right, George. Should have remembered. Terribly poorly done of me."

"Shut up!" Ron shot back. Clever as always, Ginny thought, but then his arms closed around her in a gentle hug and she felt horrible for her rude thoughts. "I'm sorry, Gin," he whispered just for her. "You all right?"

She nodded, pulling away, irritably wiping her eyes. For someone who hated to cry, she certainly did it often enough. She turned to Hermione and the two girls embraced affectionately. "We need to talk," Ginny whispered in her ear.

Hermione gave her a confused look and a single slight nod, before turning to Ginny's father. "Mr. Weasley, how did things go at my house?"

Arthur, who had been greeting his youngest son with possibly the longest hug he had ever given him, turned and hugged Hermione tenderly. "Why don't we go to the drawing room, shall we? George, the trunk!"

"But Ron---"

"I told _you_ to do it."

Amidst the grumbling, Ginny hung back, carefully resetting her booby-trap and quickly catching up with the others in the drawing room. Ron caught sight of her and gave her an amused look, but probably felt too guilty to expose her. She'd be milking that for a while.

Her father made sure everyone was seated and Hermione's trunk was safely tucked in the room across the hall before sitting himself. "On careful searching of your house, Hermione," he began seriously. "Your parents were not able to identify anything that was missing."

Ginny bit her lip and slouched into the couch. Would the Grangers have any idea what to look for?

"Nevertheless, your room had been ransacked quite as bad as Ron's and you'll have to look through the things we brought you to see if anything's absent." Mr. Weasley swallowed. "It certainly looked as if they were looking for something. It was only the rooms that you would normally use that were touched. Your parents' bedroom was virtually intact. So, we believe they were not after your parents---"

"They were after Hermione," Ron stated stiffly as he moved to stand stiffly next to his best friend.

Arthur nodded solemnly, watching Ron with a worried expression. "That's what we believe."

Or something she has…like the Empath stuff. Ginny grabbed her knee. Trying to get the girl's attention, but Hermione seemed lost in thought. Ron was sitting on the edge of the sofa next to her, so that her shoulder and his knee were pressed firmly together. It was subtle, but… What exactly _had_ happened between them last night? _Something_ had changed.

"Oh, there you are. There you are, dears," Mrs. Weasley called, bustling in and hugging Ron and Hermione as they sat limply. "Harry will be here shortly. Arthur, dear. Nymphadora. Can I have a word with you?" Molly smiled a deceptively bland smile. Did she really think she was fooling anyone?

"What say you, twin?" Fred said to George, crossing his arms and drawing himself up in preparation for battle. "This seems like Order business to me. Something two blokes like us should be involved in."

Molly glared at them, but she must have been impatient because she snapped, "Fine!"

George didn't even have a chance to join the fight. Apparently, their mother was so eager to keep information from her youngest children that she was willing to bend to the twins. For once, that was fine with Ginny. She had her _own_ information this time and she needed to talk to Hermione.

"What do you think that was about?" Ron asked, after they were gone. Hermione shook her head, still staring blankly.

"It doesn't matter," Ginny said dismissively. "Hermione, they took the notes and letters. The ones about Adrianna."

Hermione showed new life, her head jerking up and her eyes flashing. "What! Are you sure?"

Ginny nodded urgently. The older girl dashed across the hall and she followed her into their shared bedroom. Hermione rummaged through her trunk. After a few minutes of searching she shook her head. "I don't see anything here. Your father and George may have missed some of the notes I wrote, but I already packed _The Legend and Legacy of the Empath_. It isn't here." She sat back, breathing rapidly.

"Your parents probably did something with it, Hermione. What would Death Eaters want with _that_ book? It's not even in English," Ron said in a tone that showed he thought they were over-reacting. To Ginny it just proved that he was as daft as he always pretended to be.

Hermione looked up at him with thinly disguised anger and fear. "Unless it wasn't the Death Eaters at all. Unless it was Adrianna who stole it."

"Or," Ginny continued, "Adrianna is working _with_ the Death Eaters, with Voldemort."

Crash. "_Freaks! Scum! Half-breed monsters_---"

"Oh, shut it!" Moody's voice barked.

"Harry!" Ginny breathed, running for the stairs. She could feel the butterflies filling her stomach. At the bottom of the stairs she froze, just taking it in, forcing Ron and Hermione to push around her to get to their friend.

Remus set Hedwig's cage atop Harry's trunk as Moody led him in with a firm hand around his upper arm. Both the old Auror and the former Professor were scowling.

Ginny took a shaky breath and willed herself not to cry as she looked over Harry. He looked as if he hadn't seen the light of day in months. His clothes fell loosely off his body. Thick bags were under his eyes. Oh god, it was just as bad as she imagined it.

Hermione, tired of waiting for Harry to speak, it seemed, threw her arms around him. "It's so good to see you, Harry. How are you?" Harry didn't hug her in return. Ron held back, staring at his friend with a hurt expression.

"Dumbledore here yet?" Moody demanded.

Ginny gulped. Dumbledore wasn't supposed to be here. Why would he come _now_ when they were all finally safe at Grimmauld Place? A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Something was very, very wrong.

"Why is Dumbledore coming?" Hermione asked, uneasily, echoing Ginny's thoughts and pulling back from her one-sided hug. Her eyes darted around Harry's face. He still hadn't said anything. Why---

"Apparently we have a letter only he can open." Moody waved a letter in the air with one hand and yanked Harry back from Hermione with the other. "I'd keep my distance if I were you, young lady."

"Harry?" Ginny whispered. Oh god. Oh god. Please.

Remus was leaning over the trunk with a tired expression. He closed his eyes before taking a deep breath and turning to them. The look in his eyes did not alleviate Ginny's fears, but nothing could have prepared her for the words that left his mouth.

"That's not Harry, Ginny."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

* * *

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

This chapter has been revised as of July, 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_ and is rated R.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Thirteen

* * *

**

"It's so good to see you, Harry. How are you?" Hermione struggled to keep her voice light as she hugged her unresponsive friend. She wanted to scream…or cry. But those things wouldn't help Harry.

He looked worse than she had ever seen him, and he wasn't behaving…well. It was even worse than Hermione thought it would be. It was like this wasn't even Harry. Dread pounded in her ears. She heard Moody mention Dumbledore coming here as if from a great distance.

Her apprehension only increased. If Dumbledore felt he was needed at Grimmauld Place then something really awful was happening. Or _had_ happened. "Why is Dumbledore coming?" Hermione asked, deeply fearful of the answer.

"Apparently, we have a letter only he can open. I'd keep my distance if I were you, young lady." Her eyes were drawn to the letter Moody was waving in the air, such that she didn't notice him pull at Harry until he was yanked from her arms.

Hermione shook her head in denial. None of this made any sense. A letter from whom? What was in it that would make would make Moody wrench Harry away from her. Ginny called out Harry's name. Hermione stared at him, searching his eyes, looking for some indication of what was going on, some sign of the Harry she knew.

Then Lupin said the words that made her heart stop…and everything make sense. "That's not Harry, Ginny." Hermione felt her blood turn to ice water. She looked into the eyes of the boy that stood before her and knew that Harry Potter did not lie behind those green spheres. She stumbled back.

"It is true, miss," the Impostor said. "I am not Harry Potter."

Ice turned to fire as rage filled her. Instead of stepping further away, she stepped closer. "Where's Harry? Who are you?" Hermione demanded.

The fraud trembled, but just shook his head. "I cannot says, Miss. The letter for Professor Dumbledore---"

Hermione grabbed his shoulders severely, her nails piercing his flesh. She pushed him, surprising Moody with her sudden forcefulness, such that he lost his grip on Harr---whoever. "Where is he? Who _has_ him? Who has _Harry_?" she yelled.

The impostor just shook his head, looking terrified. What sort of man dared impersonate Harry Potter, yet remained such a…such a coward. Hermione was going to---

She felt herself being roughly yanked away from him and Hermione watched, in shock, as Ron violently slammed the impostor against the wall, his forearm under the captive's chin, pinning him several inches above the ground. Ron's rage brought his physical strength to new levels it seemed.

"Answer her!" Ron demanded through clenched teeth. "Who are you!" When there was no answer he pushed harder, causing the pretender to cough.

Hermione touched Ron's back, clutching a handful of his shirt. She whispered, "Ron." She tried to tell him with her tone that he needed to calm down…but that she approved of what he was doing. Desperate times. With deadly composure, she repeated the question for the third time. "Who are you?"

"It is…Dobby," the boy said in a small voice.

Hermione saw as well as felt Ron become stony in his rage. His jaw clenched and unclenched. But he didn't move. He was waiting for her. "That's not possible," she stated passionately. The fraud nodded, contradicting her and inciting Ron to push, again, on his windpipe.

"I think that's quite enough, Ron," Lupin called, with quiet command.

"Oh, let them go, Remus. They seem to be doing rather well to me."

Seeming to taking Moody's words as permission, Ron picked up the impostor and Held him higher off the ground. "Who has the real Harry?"

Hermione was stunned, not by his forcefulness and passion, but by his strength and precision. On the surface, he seemed to be acting blindly, but…it was too controlled. She knew that he could have used much more force than he was.

The captive swallowed, but didn't answer. This was getting to be ridiculous. Who would want them to think this was Dobby? How stupid did they think they were? Ron had the impostor seconds away from asphyxiation and he was telling bizarre stories and being elusive.

She had enough. There was only one question she needed answered. "Is it Voldemort or Adrianna?" Hermione demanded.

Ron's eyes flew to her face and then back to the impostor's. Clearly, he wasn't expecting her to accuse Adrianna so blatantly, but she was vindicated when the boy finally, said in an undertone, "Adrianna Potter, Miss."

Ron's grip loosened in shock and the impostor slipped down the wall. "How?" the redhead asked in a choked voice.

"Polyjuice, Mr. Weasey," he squeaked.

Now this was too much. "Polyjuice doesn't work on elves!" Hermione raged. What did Adrianna think they were? Idiots? She _knew_ how Polyjuice worked. What was that woman trying to do?

"Adrianna Potter has access to great magics. It is all in the letter," the impostor croaked, cowering. Hermione had to admit that his mannerisms did remind her of Dobby. If this was the elf, it was beyond abuse, manipulating him in this way.

With a look of disgust Ron picked him up by the shirt, and Hermione knew he was going to throw him against the wall. But what if… "Ron," she whispered urgently, her hand around his bicep. "What if it _is_ Dobby?"

He froze, turning his head to look her in the eye and she watched the emotions play over his face. Anger into confusion into guilt, then finally frustration and despair, as he finally let the impostor go, allowing him to fall to the floor. He turned away from the fallen creature and ran a hand through his hair. Now what? They needed to know what was in that letter. Hermione followed Ron with her eyes and saw Ginny for the first time since the revelation.

She was kneeling on the floor, looking deadly pale. Ron exchanged glances with Hermione, gesturing with his eyes toward the stairs to the kitchen. She understood. They needed to get down there before Dumbledore did. It was the only way to the letter, to get there before an Imperturbable was placed on the room, and they were shut out. There was no way they were letting that happen. This was _Harry_ they were talking about. They were _not_ being shut out.

Ron gently urged his sister off the ground, circling her waist with his arm. She walked to the stairs with him in a daze and Hermione followed, keeping a careful eye to the adults. They had to move quickly.

Moody advanced, waving the letter angrily. "Where do you think you're going?"

Hermione turned, hands on either side of the staircase wall, blocking the way, allowing time for Ron and Ginny to clear the steps without interference. All the while, she eyed the letter hungrily. There were answers in there. "We are going to talk to Dumbledore."

"Bloody hell, you are, Missy."

He took a step closer. Seeing her chance, Hermione threw him her most defiant look and grabbed the letter from his hand. Turning, she ran down the stairs, into the kitchen, and behind Ron's larger form. Ginny sat next to them and Ron crossed his arms insolently, shielding both her and Hermione from the wrath of the adults.

She felt a flash of triumph, despite the horrible circumstances. They had the letter. They'd get their answers now. Hermione and Ron made quite a good team, actually.

"What do you three think you're doing?" Molly Weasley demanded, in a shocked tone. Ron shrugged at his mother, unmoving. The stubbornness that usually made her aggravated, making her feel secure. They'd get Harry back, somehow.

"Hey, if he---" one of the twins began.

"We are here and we are _not_ leaving," Ron ground out through clenched teeth.

"Then we'll just move elsewhere," Molly said heatedly to her son.

Fury coursed through Hermione like fire. Did they think they were dealing with children? "Not without this." She held up the letter, watching their opponents' eyes flash.

Remus entered the room behind Moody, leading the imposture by the arm. "It's no use, Molly. Let them stay," he said tiredly, as though there was no fight left in him. Everyone was gone for Remus. If Harry…

Stop. Hermione was _not_ going to think the worst. Harry _was_ coming back. He wasn't dead. He wasn't. They _would_ find him. Oh god.

Further argument was stayed by Dumbledore's appearance in the center of the room holding an empty box of _Bertie's Every Flavor Beans_ that he had apparently used as a Portkey. Carefully, he perused the room, lingering on the three students, then gazing even longer at the impostor.

"There is a letter?" he asked evenly and Hermione wondered if anything could break his serenity. If this couldn't, what could?

Briefly, she considered bargaining before handing over the letter, but Dumbledore was not someone she felt comfortable playing games with. She'd just have to trust that he would understand what this moment meant for them and let them hear the contents. She had to trust that he would know what's best.

As she anxiously stepped forward and placed the letter in his palm, she wished she had a fragment of the Headmaster's control. Hermione held onto the parchment for a moment longer than necessary before she stepped back again, running into Ron. She leaned against him slightly, needing him for the support. She prayed the letter would contain the information they needed because, god, what would they do without Harry?

Dumbledore carefully opened the letter. As if he had all the time in the world. As if her best friend's life wasn't hanging in the breech.

"Albus, don't you think the children---" Molly anxiously twisted her apron.

Dumbledore raised a hand to still her, his eyes peering at the words of the letter through his half-moon spectacles. "No, Molly. The letter says quite clearly that I am to read it out loud _and_ that Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Weasley are to be in attendance."

Hermione let out a long breath. At least, he didn't seem upset about them staying. What was she thinking? It didn't matter who was upset. Harry was missing.

She felt Ron grip her hand and pull it behind her back so no one could see him entwine their fingers. Thank god for him. Hermione swallowed and willed her heart to a normal pace. Why would Adrianna insist they be there? What did she want from them?

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Lets see now, _read this part_…yes, yes… here...Miss Potter writes.._."_ The headmaster read the letter with a light and carefree tone, as if it were merely a cheerful piece of correspondence and not life and death.

_  
"Harry is with me and I assure you he is quite safe. I understand your feelings and wishes to keep Harry at the Dursleys' this summer and why you believe it is the safest place for him. However, I strongly disagree. As his one surviving magical relative, he is my responsibility. I will be the one keeping him safe from now on_."

Dumbledore paused at Mrs. Weasley's loud gasp. Hermione felt as though her insides would explode with the outrage and worry she was feeling. Damn Adrianna. Damn her to hell.

The Headmaster continued. "_I am enclosing a small draw string purse_…" As he said this, the purse appeared in his hand. "_You can place a message for us in this and we will return as soon as possible._

"_I am also including a letter to Ron and Hermione from Harry_, _himself_…" the letter appeared as well, "_explaining his decision to come with me and not stay with the Dursleys. Because of this_…"

* * *

_Monday June 24, 1996_

Harry lay on his hard narrow bed at 4 Privet Drive, staring at the ceiling. Pretty much the same as he had been doing for the last fifty-something hours, ever since he had returned from Kings Cross. Dudley's horrifying music pounded in his ears and he actually was starting to enjoy the steady throbbing in his temples.

Only sixty-seven days, ten hours left until Harry went back to Hogwarts. He had better make the most of his time. After all, he had a lot to think about. Plenty of sins to contemplate. Lots to repent for. After all, that _was_ the purpose of prison, wasn't it?

And that was where Harry was, prison. Punished with solitary confinement. The Dursleys studiously ignored him. Which was a positive. Their only contact was the food they slipped through the slit in the door.

Not that Harry ever ate any of it. He couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed and push the untouched food back through the opening. The sight of it made him sick, anyway.

What good was food to _him_? He was a worthless freak who no one wanted. Not as a person anyway. He was a weapon, less than human. If they wanted him, he wouldn't be stuck here. Harry had to admit, though, his friends _were_ better off without him. All he ever did was get people hurt or killed. Hell, his mind was an open door to Voldemort.

So, as the sky grew dark, Harry came to the second thing he needed to contemplate. How was he going to detach himself from his friends when he returned to Hogwarts?

It would be difficult. Horribly difficult. Both because of the pain it world cause him and because Harry's friends were…stubborn. But it was necessary. It was time to let Ron and Hermione have a normal life. Then Harry could concentrate on learning what he needed to learn for the final battle. And hope that it killed him.

"Crap, Harry."

Harry froze. Was that a voice? Or just more of Dudley's noise? Why would anyone even be in his room?

"Please, tell me you've gotten out of that bed _sometime _today. And _what_ is this racket?"

Harry didn't turn his head toward the voice, but his heart raced. He squeezed his eyes shut. It wasn't real. It was a hallucination. Didn't people start to hallucinate when…?

"_Imperturbis_." The room became blessedly silent and Harry held his breath as he finally turned his head slowly.

Adrianna stood in the center of the room, hands on her hips, anger and disapproval furrowing her brow. "God damn, Harry. It's been four days. I leave you alone for four days and _this_ is what becomes of you. You're almost sixteen. You should be able to take care of yourself for _four_ days. You haven't even eaten," she accused, kicking the full dinner tray on the floor. "And _this,_ is just gross."

Harry blinked at her. It was hard to believe she was there. It was hard to believe she actually _existed. _Over the last few days, he'd come to think that maybe Adrianna was a product of his grief-addled imagination. Or of his mind slowly fragmenting into insanity.

But Adrianna looked real enough now, standing there in his bedroom, scowling in a very real-person way. Had she come to take him away from here? A lump formed in his throat as hope returned, but Harry quickly pushed it aside. He didn't want anyone to come for him. He belonged in this hell.

"What are you doing here?" Harry demanded, trying to sound angry. He wasn't going to play the needy little boy role, to beg her to take him away, to save him. He was done with those fantasies.

Adrianna just looked amused at his attempt, which was beyond irritating. But trying to convince her that he wasn't feeling needy, or anything else for that matter, was pointless. He'd forgotten the Empathy. Shite. How was he to have any defenses?

"I said I was coming, didn't I?" Adrianna said evenly, as if stating the obvious. But, people say a lot of things and they were all god damn liars. And as far as Harry was concerned nothing was _obvious_.

Adrianna sighed, the amusement faded from her face as she looked around the room. She came over to the bed and nudged his shoulder, telling him, "Sit up." There was affection in her tone, but Harry refused to be moved by it. Even if he was doing as she told him.

She sat down next to him, a disapproving frown on her face as she bounced a bit on the hard bed. Adrianna was uncomfortably close. At least, she wasn't touching him. That was good. Harry didn't want touch, comfort. He didn't.

Sighing, Adrianna said, "So, this is the Dursleys'."

Yeah, this was the Dursleys'. Bitterness formed a sour taste in his mouth. Harry gripped the edge of the bed and kept his eyes on the floor. The silence that followed was painful. What did she _want_?

"Harry, I… Crap, I had no idea it was this bad. I'm sorry." Harry's eyes jerked to her face. She looked genuine enough, even a bit guilty. "My mother is going to completely freak when she hears about this," Adrianna continued softly. "She could have taken better care of you than _this_."

Tears were threatening again and Harry swallowed compulsively as he studied her. He was bloody tired of crying. He didn't want to hear about things he could never have. 'What if's did him no good. He clenched his jaw. "Why would your mother want me? We're not even blood?" he said meanly. Why would _anyone_ want him?

Adrianna looked at him gravely. "A lot of people want you, Harry, and if you looked at it logically, without the pessimism and self-pity you'd realize that."

Harry scowled at her, giving her the ugliest expression he could muster. How dare she? Hypocrite. Adrianna hardly presented herself as Miss Optimism. And besides that, he _liked_ his pessimism and self-pity. _They_ never let him down and she couldn't take that from him.

His cousin rolled her eyes. "Fine, brood all you want. But the reality is that there are a lot of people out there who care about you and are putting a lot of energy into keeping you safe."

Sure they were, Harry thought bitterly. He was their secret weapon, the only one who could defeat Voldemort. Of course, they wanted him alive.

"Yeah and how many people even know about the prophecy?" Adrianna challenged.

That made him pause. It was true. As far as Harry knew it was only Dumbledore who knew. He wanted to believe her, but… "I suppose," he said stiffly. Maybe he'd give her a _chance_ to explain herself.

"Oh, I appreciate that," Adrianna said with a small ironic smile, then burst out laughing. Harry frowned at her, fighting himself, but in the end a smile crept across his face, as well. He had no idea what he was grinning about. Life was still retched.

After a moment, Adrianna's smile faded a bit and she said, "You know Dumbledore is insistent that you won't be safe anywhere but here."

Bloody retched, just like he'd thought. There was _nothing_ to look forward to. Harry sighed, looking away. He was never getting out of here. How could he have let himself think otherwise?

"I, on the other hand, completely disagree," Adrianna said softly. Harry's eyes jerked back to find his cousin smiling with a small wicked smile, making his chest tighten with expectation. "Sure," she drawled. "I have no doubt that this is the safest place in _Great Britain_. Blood Protection Spells are nothing to shake a stick at. But please, there are other places in this world."

Harry's heart was beating erratically. What was she saying? He really couldn't stand it if he got his hopes up only to be disappointed again. But if there was even a chance of getting out of there… "Like where?" he asked carefully.

"Well, I was thinking Japan. There is a small school, for lack of a better word, where I learned to get my powers under control. I can't think of a safer place. You have to be invited to even find it."

"Like Hogwarts?" Harry asked with a swallow.

"Not really. It's not a formal school. It's smaller and much safer. They only work on… specialized projects." Adrianna smiled almost playfully, almost as though she was daring him to go along with it. Harry gnawed on the inside of his cheek. _Anywhere_ was better than here. "I've talked to my sensei. He's agreed to teach you Occlumency," she added in a wheedling tone.

Harry frowned at her. Now, _that_ sounded like fun.

"No need for sarcasm. Look, I promise that this will be much more pleasant than your previous experience with Occlumency. You'll come out feeling…strong."

If he knew Occlumency, his friends wouldn't be in such danger. Maybe if he mastered that skill he wouldn't need to give them up and if…"Will you be there?" Harry asked before he thought. Shite, that was too vulnerable he should---

"Of course, I'll be there. I'll be helping to train you," Adrianna said, again as if it were obvious. Were there that many certainties in her world?

Harry tried not to smile, but failed. Japan. It sounded exotic and exciting and so…god damned far from here. "When do we leave?" he asked eagerly.

Adrianna sighed and bit her lip, making her look strangely young and vulnerable. "Harry, as I said, Dumbledore is _very_ insistent that you stay---"

"So convince him," Harry burst out. He didn't like where that statement was going. She kept going back and forth. Adrianna couldn't come here and tell him about Japan and not take him. It just wasn't fair.

She shook her head. "I tried."

What the hell! Why would she even come? This was just cruel. "Fine, then." Harry was _not_ going to cry, but he might just start breaking things again. Yes, that sounded---

"So, if you want to go, you're going to have to be willing to piss a lot of people off."

Harry breath caught, as his frantic thoughts came to a stand still. He wasn't going to be tricked again. "What do you mean?" he bit out.

"If we go to Japan, you have to be willing to lie to everyone. Ron, Hermione, _everyone_. They all have to believe that you are right here, at the Dursleys,' all summer long."

Harry frowned, his brow furrowing. At least, his desire to smash things was gone. He wished she'd stop giving him small pieces of information and just tell him what was going on. "You mean we can go?"

Adrianna smiled. "Why else do you think I'm here? I spent the last four days arranging things so I could get you away unnoticed."

Get him away. He could actually leave, but… "But why does it have to be a secret?" Harry didn't like lying to Ron and Hermione. They didn't deserve that. He knew they were worried about him, would worry about him all summer if they didn't understand.

"I can't have anyone following us on either side. People here don't necessarily trust me and this connection you have with Voldemort…" Adrianna paused, her hazel eyes, piercingly intense. "Until you actually learn Occlumency, I don't want to take any chances."

Right, mustn't forget that a mad dark wizard wanted to kill him. Harry couldn't take the intensity of her gaze anymore and looked away. Shite, it sucked being him. But he could leave if he wanted to. Part of him couldn't believe this was actually happening. "We're really going to disobey Dumbledore?" he said, almost to himself.

Adrianna snorted. "What's with you people? It's like he's god around here? Where does he even get off dictating where you go? It's _not_ his decision."

Harry was taken aback by her anger. No one ever questioned Dumbledore. He took care of him, them, everyone.

"Look, Harry," Adrianna said heatedly. "I'm your family, not him. And if it wasn't for Dumbledore's paternalistic crap it might not have taken us so long to know that."

Harry's breath hissed as he inhaled. Hadn't he thought the same thing himself? "Do you really believe that?" he asked softly. A world where they couldn't trust Dumbledore was pretty scary.

Adrianna looked away, saying just as quietly, the ferocity leaving her, "Yes. No. I think Fate had a lot to do with it, too. But as my raging against Fate never gets me very far..." She looked back at him, suddenly appearing tired. "Dumbledore wants what's best for you, I don't doubt that. It's just---"

"---Not his decision," Harry finished, feeling surprisingly liberated by the idea. He didn't _have_ to do as Dumbledore said. But was he finally in control of his own life or was Adrianna going to take control? "_You_ think we should leave?"

"Obviously. But it is your decision."

Harry nodded, so he _was_ in control here. He thought of Hermione and Ron, even Ginny and Mrs. Weasley, worrying about him, thinking he was rotting away here. Of course, if he didn't go to Japan, he _would_ be rotting away here.

Still, they'd be furious that he didn't tell them and they'd have every right to be. Suddenly, Harry wished it _wasn't_ his decision. It would be easier if he could just go and be able to blame someone else.

"Responsibility sucks, huh?" Adrianna said with an expression that was both bitter and playful.

"Is there an option where no one gets hurt?" Harry asked hopefully. Maybe there was something else---

"Nope."

Great. That was just great. Well, Harry wasn't very well going to _choose_ to stay at the Dursleys' just to keep his friends happy with him. Hadn't they done the very same thing to him last summer? Kept secrets, for safeties sake. Harry wouldn't be doing anything different. "So what's your plan?"

Adrianna's smile turned mischievous. She stood and strode to his window. Lifting her wand, Imperturbable fell. Noise that passed for music once again pounded in his ears, but it easily masked the sound of the window opening.

"Harry, why are there bars on your window?" Adrianna yelled over the noise.

Harry shrugged. Wasn't the answer obvious? This was _prison_. "Long story," he yelled back.

Another flick of her wand and the bars were gone. Somehow, the casual use of magic made Harry feel both calmer and filled with adrenaline. Adrianna leaned out the window, yelling, "Dobby!"

Harry's eyes widened and he finally sprang from his bed. Leaning out of the window, he saw his friend crouching in the bushes. The sight was far from soothing. The last time Dobby was here, he'd been sighted for under-aged magic. "Someone will see him," he whispered to Adrianna, frantically.

She rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine." Adrianna gestured for Dobby to come up and the elf grinned widely. _Pop_.Turning around, Harry found the elf in the middle of his bedroom.

"Harry Potter!" Dobby bellowed, launching himself at Harry and attaching himself to his knees. "Dobby came for Harry Potter."

"Um, thanks." Harry looked at his cousin, while she closed the window and replaced the Imperturbable, wondering when she was going to explain. When he imagined himself being rescued it never involved Dobby.

"Harry Potter is living in squalor. Dobby will clean for him." The elf busied himself, humming happily as he began cleaning the days-old food off the floor. Harry could only stare after him as he worked at a dizzying pace. He felt a rush of affection as the rank food disappeared. He reckoned it _was_ pretty disgusting.

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, Harry turned to his cousin and asked, "But how is Dobby---?"

"He's part of my brilliant escape plan," Adrianna said with a self-satisfied smile.

Harry just stared at her. How was _that_ an explanation? "I don't understand."

Adrianna pulled a vial from her bag and she shook it at him playfully. "This is a special version of Polyjuice, courtesy of a few friends at the MIA. That's what I was paged about that day in Hogwarts. It's specially modified for elves, very rare, with a few extra ingredients thrown in to help modify voice, mannerisms, handwriting…and as with all the MIA concealment potions, they are designed to last indefinitely, until the antidote is given."

She had to be kidding. Dobby couldn't impersonate Harry. He was…he was _Dobby_. "You're serious?"

Adrianna grinned, continuing, "So, Dobby becomes Harry. He stays safe and sound at the Dursleys'. Voldemort doesn't look elsewhere. Everybody's content, everybody's safe."

Except for Ron and Hermione, who wanted Harry with them. Funny, how he couldn't realize that an hour ago and now it seemed so clear. He didn't want to hurt them but… Damn, he wanted to get out of here.

"If I write letters ahead of time, to Ron, Hermione, and the Weasley's, date them later in the summer, tell them I'm fine… It will be the truth," Harry suggested eagerly. Please, say that will work.

Adrianna nodded, but looked skeptical. "They'll still be hurt." Harry shoulders sagged. Maybe he shouldn't go.

"But," Adrianna continued, "then you'd miss out on the adventure. The travel. The discovery. The under-aged magic," she cajoled, coming next to him and nudging his shoulder with hers. Harry bit his cheek to keep from smiling back, but leaned into her a bit, enjoying the simple touch of her shoulder.

Well, Harry always was a selfish bastard. Why stop now? He reached back and pulled a strand of hair from his head. "You'll need this. For the potion."

Adrianna grinned proudly, taking the hair. "That's my boy. Potter through and through." Harry knew he had just made an extremely selfish decision, but as he shared a broad grin with his cousin, he felt absurdly proud. "Go, get started on those letters," Adrianna ordered lightly.

It was ridiculous how weightless and cheerful Harry felt, as he wrote letter after letter of artful approximations of the truth. Plenty to Hermione and Ron. Several to the Weasley's. A few extra for Ginny. For some reason, he felt particularly guilty about lying to her.

Watching Dobby morph into his mirror image was one of the more bizarre experiences of Harry's young life. But not quite as bizarre as the list of instructions Adrianna left him on how he was to dress and behave, making special care to be sure he always matched his socks.

Packing was fast. Harry took very little, only the most important things. His minimized firebolt, his wand, a few pictures, a few necessities. Adrianna scoffed at his hand-me-downs, saying they would get him new clothes. Clothes that fit him. Unfortunately, Hedwig would have to stay to maintain appearances and Adrianna spent an amusing amount of time explaining the situation to her.

When they were ready to leave, Harry felt the most incredible rush. He couldn't stop smiling, even with the anxiety coursing through him. "How are we going?" he asked excitedly.

"We'll drive to the ferry and take it to France," Adrianna explained as she went through his things one last time. She looked strangely motherly doing it despite the fact that 'motherly' was not a word that described Harry's cousin. He swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Once we're there and you can't be tracked by the British Ministry anymore…oh, I almost forgot." Adrianna pulled out another vial. "Drink this. It'll dampen your magic big time, but it will completely black out all Legilimency for forty-eight hours. By then we'll be too far away for Voldemort to locate you, and he'll just assume you're still here, but blocking him some other way."

So, this was it then. They were really going. Harry took the muddy potion, holding his breath as he drank it. It wasn't that bad, a little spicy.

"From France, we can Apparate anywhere we want to go."

Harry choked on the last bit of potion. "Adrianna, I don't know how to Apparate."

"I know. You're far too young for that." Adrianna said cheekily, absently patting his back as his cough subsided.

"Side-Along Apparation?" Harry gasped, his breathing returned to normal.

"Two adults? Across the globe? God no. Do you know how dangerous that would be? Maybe with a small child but…" She held out her wrist and lifted up a medallion. "As long as we are both touching this, you will Apparate where ever I do, _and_ you will be covered under my International Apparation License. Cross continental Apparition is very illegal to the general public."

Right. Of course. Couldn't have people Apparating across the globe willy-nilly, now could they. Oh god, he was going to be Apparating across the globe. Nothing had ever sounded so exciting.

Adrianna clipped his backpack and tossed it to him. Smiling broadly, she asked, "Ready?"

Oh yeah, he was ready.

* * *

_Sunday August 4, 1996_

It was after midnight and Ron was wide awake. This time, he hadn't awakened from a nightmare. This time, he didn't even get that far. His eyes had been glued to the cracked ceiling of the Grimmauld Place bedroom ever since he had laid down. Next to him, his roommate was conspicuously absent.

Not that Ron was really worried about Harry. Not like Hermione and Ginny were. The two of them were having kittens about 'evil' Adrianna having Harry in her 'clutches.' They had _actually_ used those words.

Ron, for his part, was relieved. Harry _hadn't_ been kidnapped. He had clearly chosen to go to Japan and who wouldn't, given the opportunity? But more than that, Ron was mostly relieved that the son of an ogre who had been writing him all summer hadn't been his best mate. It was nice to finally get a _real_ letter from him.

So, Harry was off on an adventure somewhere and would be returned to them soon enough. Hopefully, with a whole lot less surliness. _Ron_ had every faith that Harry would be back, entertaining them with stories of his exploits. Lucky git.

Ron knew that he should be angry at his best mate, despite the heartfelt apology in the letter. That's what Hermione kept telling him anyway, but he just couldn't summon the energy to be irate. He needed all he had to deal with Ginny and Hermione's anger and fear. Not to mention Mum…

But, if Harry's escapades weren't bothering him, why was he still awake? It's not as if the last twenty-four hours hadn't been exhausting enough. Though, not being able to fall asleep certainly wasn't anything new. Ron's body had learned to fight off sleep as long as it could, to avoid the torment of his dreams.

One would _think_ that having Hermione safely sleeping directly below him would be able to relax him enough that he could at least_ fall_ asleep. Or maybe that was the problem. That persistent hum that Hermione caused throughout his body with her very presence. It wouldn't let him rest. Or maybe it was just what happened last night.

They had yet to acknowledge it. The kiss. Maybe it didn't… No, it _happened_. Ron could still taste her. He wanted that taste again. He _needed_ it. It was like an compulsion. Only he craved it more than chocolate, more than Butterbeer, more than a lifetime of Mum's cooking. This must be what it feels like to have a Firewhiskey habit. Or to go bent. Yes, he was definitely going bent.

Yet, he and Hermione had managed to let twenty-four hours pass, in almost constant company of one another, without a hint that anything had ever happened. Well, it _had_ been a busy day.

Part of him knew that it was better this way. What good could ever come of talking about it anyway? Ron didn't even _like_ talking. Talking about kissing…that was a walking nightmare. It just worried him that Hermione hadn't brought it up. She _loved_ to talk. So, maybe she wanted to pretend it never happened.

The idea made Ron's chest tight and his stomach queasy. And he didn't know why. He was _glad_ she hadn't brought it up. Glad, damn it. Did Ron really want to hear her reject him? Torment him?

Of course, there was another scenario…they could kiss again. _Damn_, Ron wanted to kiss Hermione again. But all _that_ would bring was a deeper craving, a darker obsession, a more assured future where he was shattered and alone. He _should_ keep his distance, before it was too late.

Though part of him knew it was already too late. He couldn't willingly walk away from this now. His body no longer listened to him. If he ever had the chance to touch Hermione again, he couldn't _not_ do it.

And if it was inevitable, why was Ron torturing himself by waiting. She was right down-stairs. He could just sneak into her room and…what? Grope her in her sleep? What kind of bloke was he? Though, he could slip down and just…look at her. Reassure himself that she was fine. Maybe then his brain would allow him to sleep.

As he climbed out of bed and made his way to her room he wondered if tonight was the night he would actually have enough self-control to stop at looking. How much could happen with Ginny in the room, anyway? Shite, Ginny. Maybe…Ron's heart just about stopped when he opened the door to find Hermione's bed empty.

Then Ron noticed a soft light coming from the crack in the door across the hall. Carefully, he made his way to the drawing room where he found the object of his search sitting in the corner of the sofa with her feet curled beneath her. Harry's letter and the small draw-string pouch were clutched in her hand. A single candle burned next to her, making her skin glow. Hermione looked up and smiled shyly at him.

"Hey," Ron whispered, feeling warmth spread throughout his body, making him feel as though he had far, far too many Butterbeers. He echoed her soft smile and came to sit next to her.

"Nightmare?" Hermione asked.

"Nah, never got that far. What's your excuse?"

Hermione shrugged and held up the pouch. "They haven't written back. It's been hours. I'm just… Someone needs to wait until they write back." She sounded calm, but Ron could feel the intensity behind her words.

"Harry said he's fine, Hermione. Better than fine, actually," he reassured softly, touching the letter and brushing his hand across hers in the process. His heart rate quickened and he felt _that _part of him twitch, showing its first reaction to her nearness. Shite, he was pathetic. It was just a hand for god's sake.

"He's with _her_, Ron. How could he _possibly_ be fine?" Hermione snapped bitterly.

And still his arousal didn't lesson. If anything it got worse. Definitely pathetic. Hermione was clearly upset and he was a wanker. On impulse, Ron grabbed her hand, their fingers entwining involuntarily. "Hermione, you were angry at Adrianna because she abandoned Harry, but now it's clear she didn't abandon him at all. This is a good thing, love."

Shite. Ron froze as he realized what he had just said. What the hell was wrong with him? He could feel Hermione's eyes on his face and he forced himself to meet them and pretend he hadn't just called her 'love.' Maybe, he could claim temporary insomnia-induced insanity.

Hermione was looking at him intently. Did she want something from him? It looked as though she did. But how the hell was he supposed to know what it was, if she didn't tell him? Maybe he should try and kiss her again, just in case _that's_ what she wanted. Right. Why would she want _that_?

"Ron, last night…"

Oh god. Ron's eyes jerked up and only then did he realize he had been staring at her lips. Hermione wanted to talk about last night after all. Bloody hell, what should he say? What should he do? He wasn't ready for this.

"Yeah," Ron croaked, knowing he must look panicked.

Hermione turned her head away, whispering, "Never mind."

She sounded crestfallen, making Ron feel like the biggest arse in the magical world. He couldn't let this go now, not when she sounded so rejected. He was _not_ rejecting her. He forced himself to say, "No, what were you going to say?" His throat suddenly felt like the Sahara.

Hermione glanced back at him, thankfully the sad look left, leaving only anxiety. She took a deep breath and her eyes became fixated on her lap, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip. The candle light made her skin---

"What happened last night?" Hermione asked and all the breath left Ron's body. Oh god.

Ron pulled his hand away from hers, unable to maintain contact _and_ have this conversation. He ran his hands roughly over his face. Should he act dumb? Pretend he didn't understand? It had always worked for him in the past.

"Um," he started. But acting dumb didn't work very well with Hermione. It usually just made her angry. Then she'd insult him and say he was stupid and he'd feel like hell and start a row…

Speak, idiot, Hermione wanted him to say something. "I um….came to your room to see if you were all right. You were…er…talking in your sleep. So, I came over to see what you were saying…and uh…"

See, Ron thought she was having a sex dream about him, and wanted to make sure. Blimey, she was going to kill him. He forced himself to keep talking, his face buried in his hands. He couldn't look at her. "And I kinda sat on the edge of your bed and …um, leaned…then you kissed…"

It sounded so awful. Ron panicked. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry. I just got caught up. I shouldn't have kissed you back. I knew you weren't really awake. I swear I'll…"

Swear what, fool? That he'll never do it again. Ron knew he couldn't do that.

"No. _I'm_ sorry, Ron," Hermione said stiffly, looking at her lap. She was hugging herself. "You shouldn't have been subjected---"

Ron laughed out-loud. "Subjected? Blimey, Hermione, it was bloody brilliant!" Shite! Shite! Did he have _no_ self-control left?

Her eyes snapped up and she looked at him with open-mouthed shock. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the intense need to run. What was she thinking? Ugh! He couldn't believe he just wondered what a girl was thinking. What was happening to him?

Not looking at her, Ron said, "We should try and get some sleep." He needed to get out of there before he humiliated himself further.

But before he could stand, Ron felt her hand on top of his again. "You can sleep here," Hermione said softly, so softly that he thought he had imagined it.

Ron searched her face for signs of fear of him. All he found was welcoming warmth. It seemed too good to be true. "Really?" he asked a distant echo of the night before.

Hermione smiled as if she were remembering it as well. "Yeah." Her voice was velvet. "I'm going to wait a little longer." Her hand clutched the small bag. "I'd like it if you'd---"

He didn't make her finish, just squeezed her hand, and moved to lie down next to her on the sofa. Ron wasn't stupid enough to risk her taking the invitation back. Besides if she wanted company, he couldn't let her wait alone. It was awkward, as the furniture wasn't nearly long enough for him, but he managed to get semi-comfortable.

"Here." Hermione took his head in her hands and guided it to her lap.

Now, _that_ was nice. Curled up on the sofa, with his head on her thighs, her hands sifting through his hair, Ron drifted off to sleep easily, all his pesky thoughts slipping away.

* * *

Hermione could tell the exact moment Ron fell asleep. His breath evened and the tension seeped out of his muscles. It was fantastic to her to think he ever had trouble sleeping. He always fell asleep so easily when he was with her.

There was nothing quite like the feel of him cradled in her lap, his silky copper locks caressing her fingers. Hermione took a deep breath. She just loved him _so_ much.

They were on the brink here. Teetering. Precariously close to falling. Ron could fall either way. Towards her or away. Hermione could feel the potential in the room. Never had she been so close to getting what she wanted. Maybe he wasn't in love with her. Maybe he didn't even fancy her. But he was _close_.

Ron cared for her. Deeply. That much was clear. They had the strongest of friendships, based on trust, mutual respect, and genuine affection. Hermione would even go so far to say he loved her. As a friend, that is. And now…now, it was becoming clear that he desired her, as well.

The very thought took Hermione's breath. How could someone like Ron be attracted, physically, to plain little her? But he was. The evidence was there. He kissed her and told her it was brilliant. He said she was beautiful. More than beautiful, gorgeous. And she had _seen_ the lust in his eyes.

Lust. Wow. Friendship and lust, it was quite a nice start, really. Essential building blocks to a long, lasting relationship. To falling in love. Hermione had never felt so intensely hopeful and _terrified_ in her life. She could see everything he wanted. Right there. She just had to reach out and grab it. _Without_ sending it tumbling into the abyss.

Looking down, Hermione smiled as Ron burrowed into her lap, like a child with a teddy bear.

Ron wasn't ready. As much as Hermione wanted him to be, he wasn't ready for the relationship. No, that wasn't right. It was the conversation he wasn't ready for. The one where they sit down and discuss their feelings and commit to a relationship. If she pushed, before he was properly primed, she'd lose him. But if she didn't, she risked loosing this…this opportunity. And who knew if she'd ever have another.

Hermione knew what she had to do and it thrilled her, horrified her, and a million other emotions she couldn't name. She simply needed to play up what she already had from him. The two essential ingredients. The caring of friendship and the heat of lust.

He desired her, right? All Hermione needed to do was foster that a little. Nothing crazy. She wasn't a slag or anything. Just a bit of kissing among friends to make him want her more. Make her indispensable to him. That's what she needed to be. Indispensable. Then Ron wouldn't be able to keep from falling in love with her. He wouldn't be able to leave her. Not ever.

Well, that was the theory, anyway. Hermione leaned down and pressed a kiss to his crown. And now it was her plan. Her incredibly idiotic, insanely hazardous plan. She _could_ loose everything, her pride, her reputation, her best friend…. But if it worked…

Hermione had to chance it. What if she didn't and Ron was the love of her life and he found someone else. Then they would both be miserable and it would be her fault for not doing what she needed to do, now. It was finally time to prove, once and for all, that the Sorting Hat hadn't made a mistake. Hermione _was_ a Gryffindor.

She leaned over and blew out her candle, shifting a bit in her seat to get into a reclining position. Encouraged when Ron didn't wake, Hermione kicked her feet up next to him, and he shifted from hugging her waist to snuggling into her belly, causing a fluttering to settle in her abdomen.

Leaning back against the arm rest, she closed her eyes. Hermione doubted that she would be able to sleep….

* * *

"Hermione. Ron. Wake up, you gits. Now! If you don't want the twins to find you, you had better move!"

Ginny's voice broke through the fog and Hermione blinked her eyes open to find the bright light of day. She felt a weight on her chest and looked down to see a mop of red hair lying on her upper body.

"You two are _never_ going to hear the end of this!" Ginny whispered harshly, hands on hips. She was doing a wonderful imitation of her mother.

Hermione felt her face turn unbearably hot as she came fully awake and realized the nature of the situation. "Ron!" she said sharply and lifted his head unceremoniously off her body.

Ron's beautiful blue eyes opened and looked up at her. When he smiled, she forgot they weren't alone, a silly smile coming across her face as she smiled back at him.

"Are you trying to make me retch?"

At his sister's words Ron turned red and sprung into a seated position. Looking flustered, his eyes darted around the room. Disappointed, Hermione's eyes dropped from him and she looked down at her hands.

"Oh dear…Ron," she called in a nervously.

He met her eyes and she lifted her hand, opening it to reveal the drawstring bag. There was a roll of parchment inside.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This chapter has been revised as of July 2005 and contains new content. It has also been modified from the original NC-17 version is located at _Checkmated_ and is rated R.

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Fourteen

* * *

**

Ginny sat on the curb outside Twelve Grimmauld Place biting her fingernails, a habit she had given up the day she turned nine. Luckily, her mother was too busy pacing and foot taping to notice. As a matter of fact, everyone was too preoccupied to notice.

They made quite a sight, just shy of a dozen witches and wizards in various amounts of Muggle clothing. In fact, they were quite fortunate that no Muggles had happened upon them as they milled about in front of a house that no outsider could see. But that was why they were waiting outside in the first place. Adrianna couldn't enter, or even find the place, without Dumbledore telling her the secret, personally.

For her part, Ginny hoped that Dumbledore would, instead, curse the witch back to wherever she came from. Then they could just grab Harry and run. Why were they even considering telling Adrianna where Headquarters was? It seemed pretty damned daft to Ginny, but no one listened to her. No one _ever_ listened to her. Of course, Dumbledore had yet to show up so…maybe they would be able to ditch Adrianna and disappear into the house after all.

"Shite," Ginny swore under her breath as she bit off a nail, making it bleed. She sucked on the finger, looking around to see that there would be no one reprimanding her for swearing, because, _again,_ no one was paying her one bit of attention. Did they ever?

Damn it! When were they going to get here? Ginny had assumed Harry and Adrianna would be arriving by Portkey, but if they were, then they would be here by now. Portkeys were very precise and the letter they had received yesterday morning said that they'd be here at two in the morning. It was now two-twelve.

She knew this because her mother kept conjuring the time on the sidewalk and earning scathing remarks from the already hacked off Mad-Eye. When Harry hadn't shown up at precisely two, Mrs. Weasley had insisted that the lights in the Put-Outer be put back on, so the new arrivals would be able to see. Moody _strongly_ disagreed, but after a heated argument he relented and was now muttering about it under his breath.

Ginny searched the sky, looking for signs of broomsticks, until the screeching sound of a car's breaks jerked her eyes down to the street. It was one of those red bubble shaped cars, shinny and squat. Ginny's heart skipped a beat when she saw Harry emerge. Finally. Wait. Was that the driver's side?

The door closest to Ginny opened and out stepped the object of her summer's hate fest, looking disgustingly bright and innocent in jeans and a long ponytail. Adrianna turned and leaned over the car, looking pointedly at Harry. "Remind me, no more city driving."

Harry flashed her a brilliant winning smile. "Hey, I did good. Admit it." His smile made Ginny a bit light headed. He was here. He was home. But why was he driving a car? Maybe _this_ wasn't Harry either. She squeezed her arms tightly, what was left of her fingernails digging sharply into the flesh of her upper arms.

Adrianna rolled her eyes, smiling affectionately. "Yeah, for someone who's been driving for four days you did fantastic." She held up her hands and Harry tossed her the keys in what appeared to be a practiced manner.

"You let him drive!" Molly shrieked in a voice so high that it made Ginny wince.

Adrianna turned around slowly, the smile fading from her face. All traces of affection left as her expression took on a hard edge, especially around the eyes. The witch crossed her arms over her chest.

"He's sixteen," Adrianna said in clipped tones, her eyes fixed on Mrs. Weasley. "He even has a license. A conjured one, yes, but a license all the same. Besides, Harry had to drive, otherwise we could never have found this place."

"Driving is dangerous," Molly bit out.

The corner of Adrianna's mouth twitched in bitter humor. "A lot of things are dangerous." She looked over the older woman carefully. "So, you're Molly Weasley," she said softly, causing Ginny narrow her eyes.

What did she mean by _that_? What an odd thing to say. It should have been challenging, but it wasn't. It was…contemplative, maybe. Adrianna watchfully took in the group, lingering on Mr. Weasley and the twins. Ginny remembered Adrianna's strange reaction to her last name the day they met. Did she---

"Oh, right. 'Drana, this is Mrs. Weasley…" Harry stepped forward to make introductions and, suddenly, Ginny couldn't hear a word he, or anyone else, said. Her train of thought was gone. Poof. Just like that.

Bloody hell. Was that _really_ Harry Potter? Wow. Really, wow. Ginny scrambled to her feet to get a better look at him and when she did she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping out loud.

Harry was taller, four to five inches taller. He wasn't tall, per say, but you could no longer call him a small, slight boy. In fact, you couldn't call him thin. His face had filled out and lost its gaunt appearance. Instead, it looked healthy. His clothes framed new muscles, fitting him well. Too well, judging from the way Ginny's palms were sweating. It wasn't fair that he was _more_ attractive. _Now_, what was she supposed to do?

But more important than the general look of virility and good health that surrounded the object of Ginny's childhood crush, was the light and fire that was back in Harry's eyes, the light that she saw on that train platform all those years ago. God, Ginny hoped this was the real Harry. She swore that if it was, she'd forgive Adrianna everything. If she could do _this_ to her Harry, she was Ginny's bleeding hero.

Mad-Eye, however, was less optimistic. When introductions reached him, he barked, "That ain't Harry Potter. No one changes _that_ much in six weeks."

The guilty apprehensive look already on Harry's face intensified as he responded meekly, "Fourteen weeks, actually."

Moody growled, stepping closer and glaring at him with his creepy eye. "Excuse me."

Ginny held her breath, praying that the answer would be a good one. She couldn't take it if this was another impostor. Harry swallowed and glanced back at his cousin, "For Adrianna and I, it's been fourteen weeks."

"With alternate plains of reality and all," Adrianna continued for him, fixing Mad-Eye with a look that could only be described as insolent. That woman didn't seem to be intimidated by anyone.

Harry cleared his throat. "Time moved differently where we trained in Japan…" he trailed off with a mildly frightened look. From the look on the withered Auror's face, he should be afraid. Ginny was.

Mad-Eye stepped still closer to Harry, saying quiet, but menacingly, "Prove it."

Harry's eyebrows rose as he squeaked, "Prove that time---"

"He means that you're you, Harry," Adrianna interrupted, looking as if she'd had quite enough, as if this was just one more petty inconvenience. She was an Empath. Didn't she know what this meant to Ginny and her family?

No sooner had she thought it, then Adrianna's face turned sharply, her eyes boring into Ginny's, making her freeze with apprehension. But then, Adrianna's expression softened, just a little, around the mouth and eyes. Still looking at Ginny, she said quietly to her cousin, "Just tell him something that other people wouldn't know."

"Oh, ok." Harry agreed, appearing grateful for the instruction and he began telling details of past exploits that made Ginny's eyebrows rise and her mother gasp in outrage. It seemed neither of them knew much about Harry's past adventures.

It wasn't until he had told every last detail of the day that Moody and the Order rescued Harry from the Dursleys' last summer that Mad-Eye finally grunted his approval. Well, maybe not approval, reluctant acceptance maybe.

Though, perhaps Moody would have continued the interrogation if Hermione hadn't pushed herself forward. "Harry Potter, you scared us to death," she cried tearfully, stamping her foot. Then she threw herself at him and he caught her in a warm, brotherly hug.

Ginny could barely hear the "Sorry," he whispered into Hermione's bushy curls. She was struggling with the jealousy that overcame her during their prolonged embrace, but in the end, she couldn't help but smile. Profound relief filled her. This was finally her Harry. He was really home.

"Wow, it feels like forever since I've seen any of you," Harry said, pulling away from Hermione and turning to greet Ron. "Sorry, mate. I---"

Ron pulled him into an uncharacteristic, but manly hug. Releasing him quickly, he muttered, "I suppose we're even for last year, then. Just don't do it again." They grinned sheepishly at one another and stared at their feet. Boys. Ginny rolled her eyes.

Then she stood, paralyzed with astonishment, as Harry turned to greet her next. Was Ginny really the next most important person? Or was she just the next closest in proximity?

"Hey, Gin," Harry greeted with a small smile. "Sorry 'bout the deception and stuff." He stepped forward and opened his arms…Oh god, he was going to hug her. Since when was Harry so comfortable touching people? In touching her?

Then, god, Harry's arms were around her for the first time ever and Ginny was just sure she was going to die. Tears fell freely from her cheeks and she brushed them away angrily, even as she put her arms around his shoulders to hug him back. Wow, were those _really_ Harry's shoulders?

The embrace seemed to last forever. Ginny wondered if Harry was waiting for her to speak. If she stayed silent, would he just keep holding her? She could do that. But then again, she had three brothers here, so it wasn't all that realistic. "We missed you," Ginny managed to croak into his shoulder.

Harry pulled back and smiled at her, softly saying, "I missed you, too."

Her heart tumbled dangerously and all the breath left her body. Ginny struggled to control herself as her mother swept over and crushed Harry in a suffocating hug. It gave her a chance to regain her bearings. Mustn't over analyze this. It was just a friendly hug. Harry was hugging _everyone_. She wasn't anyone special.

After Harry had greeted the rest of her family, Tonks, and Remus, he looked nervously to his cousin. She gave him a reassuring smile as she played with her keys making the back of the car pop open. Pulling out a worn, leather backpack, she tossed it to Harry and slung her own bag over her shoulder. Closing the boot, Adrianna then pulled out her wand and tapped the car. "_Reducio."_

"You can't do magic like that in the middle of the street!" Molly yelled, outraged. "The Muggles!" Of course, the screaming would keep them all sleeping tight.

"'Cause, you guys are _so_ inconspicuous," Adrianna said, rolling her eyes. "No one's watching. I would be able to tell. I'm an Empath remember? You don't think a Muggle observing magic would give off strong emotional energy?"

Mrs. Weasley seethed as she stared into Adrianna's hard, arrogant eyes. It struck Ginny that the hardness came and went, like walls that the witch could produce as will. "I don't see how…Enchanted Muggle objects are illegal in _this_ country, young lady," her mother chastised, as if she were talking to a young child.

"Molly," Arthur warned, putting an arm around his wife's waist.

It seemed Ginny's mother was just itching for a row and Adrianna seemed completely willing to comply. "Well then, it's a good thing it's not enchanted. It's _just_ a car." She smiled without mirth. "And _now_ it's a really small car." Adrianna picked it up and dropped it into her bag for emphasis.

Ginny stifled a grin at the cheekiness and saw her brothers do the same. Cheekiness was highly regarded in the Weasley household. That is, by all by but it's matriarch, who continued to scowl, her chest heaving in anger.

"Really, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said quickly, clearly uncomfortable with the tension. "The car can't do anything on its own."

Molly's answer was interrupted by a loud, _Crack_, as Dumbledore appeared on the sidewalk. He looked at the lit street lamps with raised brows, then turned to smile pleasantly at his newly arrived student. "Harry, my dear boy. It's nice to see you looking so well."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry said anxiously, glancing between the Headmaster and his cousin, who Dumbledore was now approaching.

The Professor held his hands folded before him in a casual posture as he peered at Adrianna over the tops of his spectacles. He towered over her, even with Adrianna pulling herself up to full height, her arms crossed and her posture rigid. "Miss Potter, I specifically remember having a conversation where I said Harry was safest at the Dursleys."

Ginny looked anxiously at Harry. What would he do if Dumbledore refused to tell Adrianna about Grimmauld Place? Would he leave with her? Would they loose him for good?

Adrianna tilted her chin and narrowed her eyes. "Then you'll also remember how I disagreed."

Ginny gasped and she wasn't the only one. Who did Adrianna think she was, talking to Dumbledore like that? There was arrogance and there was _arrogance_. It was almost inconceivable. The silence stretched and Ginny could only wonder what an angry Dumbledore would look like.

But it was the Headmaster who finally spoke. "You certainly are a Potter." And it appeared he wasn't angry at all.

Adrianna shrugged, "So, they say."

Dumbledore smiled in a completely genuine way and Ginny felt like she could breathe again. It seemed she no longer wanted Dumbledore to hex Adrianna at all. She just wanted peace and to get the new improved, hugging, Harry safely through _that_ front door.

"Well, Ms. Potter," the Headmaster said, a surprising twinkle in his eye, "welcome to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place."

* * *

Harry looked good. He looked happy and healthy. Ron felt immensely relieved that his original instincts about Adrianna had been correct. After all, Harry needed family. No, Ron thought, as the large group of people filed back into Grimmauld Place, Harry wasn't the one to be worried about. Hermione on the other hand…

She had been shooting Adrianna deadly glares ever since the witch first stepped out of the car. With every unapologetic, self-assured thing that Harry's cousin said, Ron could _feel_ Hermione's temperature rising. And then when Dumbledore gave Adrianna the secret to Grimmauld Place… Ron had been seriously afraid that his best friend was going to hex the Headmaster and to hell with the consequences.

Ron caught the back of Hermione's shirt as she tried to push her way up front to Harry and Adrianna. She turned and gave him a furious glare, which he countered with one of warning. When she pulled away to climb the steps of the house, the twins, Tonks, and Lupin were between her and Harry, so Ron was satisfied, still he was careful to stay close behind her.

What he _wanted_ to do was grab her hand and force Hermione to stay next to him. He wanted to entwine their fingers, the way they seemed to do naturally of late, and distract her from the anger she was feeling, get her to think straight again. Ron wanted to… Ron wanted to think about something other than Hermione for five whole minutes. God _damn_!

As he stepped over the threshold to the foyer, Ron heard first the familiar sound of Tonks tripping, and then the regrettably common screeching of Mrs. Black. "_Hoards! Hoards of traitors, scum, and vagrants! Oh, to sully the good name of Black…"_

"Harry," Adrianna said softly, leaning slightly toward her cousin. "Why do you have a painting that insults you in the foyer?"

Her tone indicated only mild curiosity. As if Mrs. Black was an amusing oddity. Ron supposed this was true for…oh, ten seconds or so. After that, a bloke was ready to tear his hair out. And Ron had a high tolerance for overbearing females, as it seemed, they were the only kind he knew.

"_How dare you? Filth,"_ Mrs. Black seethed. "_This is my house_!"

"Really?" Adrianna's eyebrows rose skeptically, looking to Harry again. "I thought this was Sirius' house."

"_My son did not deserve---"_

"This is my unfortunate great aunt, Sirius' dead mother," Tonks interrupted, scowling at the portrait as it continued its tirade, now directing its full venom at her.

The insults Mrs. Black directed toward Tonks were particularly harsh and did not bear repeating. The witch took it all in stride, but Ron couldn't help but think he'd be forced to beat the stuffing out of any actual person that said those things to a friend. On the other hand, he couldn't hit a woman and Mrs. Black…Did she count as a woman?

"Well then, why is she still here?" Adrianna asked, looking between Tonks and Harry, disgust curling her lip as she winced at the screeching. Hermione made a harrumphing noise and Ron couldn't understand, for the life of him, what was wrong with her. Adrianna was _completely_ right. Why the hell was the wretched portrait still there?

"We like her---" Fred yelled from the back of the crowd.

"---scares away the saleswitches," George quipped, nodding solemnly.

"---and the undesirable---"

"It's a sticking spell, 'Dranna," Harry interrupted, even as Ron chuckled at his brothers' joke and earned a deflating look from Hermione. "We've tried everything to get it down."

But did they really try _everything_? Ron had to believe that Dumbledore, if no one else, must have someway to get rid of the thing. Bloody hell, if they couldn't dispose of a simple picture how were they going to defeat Voldemort?

"I suggested we burn her down," George called again. "We didn't try _that_

Adrianna nodded, considering. "I suppose you've tried a Silencing Charm---"

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley scoffed.

"_If you try anything, you repulsive whore_---"

"That burning idea is looking better and better," Adrianna snapped back. Ron began to chuckle, but managed to appropriately arrange his expression before Hermione's angry glare fixed on his face. Damn, that witch was exhausting.

"What about knocking the wall down. What's behind there?" Adrianna began thumping on the wall with her fist.

"Can we do that?" Harry asked, intrigued. Ron wanted to ask the same thing and realized that he would have it weren't for Hermione. Actually, he'd be right there next to Harry, if it weren't for her.

Adrianna shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"There's nothing behind there, Missy," Moody growled, fixing Adrianna with a piercing glare.

Tonks cleared her throat, suggesting helpfully, "Maybe it's the next house."

"There's only one room on this floor? In a house this size?" Adrianna asked incredulously, shaking her head. "No, there is _something_ behind there. It shouldn't be too hard to cut this portrait out."

Ron stared at the wall, trying to be interested in the mystery, but a question niggled him. Why _was_ he minding Hermione? He'd never felt the need before. Why was it so ruddy important _now_ that she stay calm? She was always annoyed. It was nothing new.

"_You wouldn't dare! The scum and refuse will never run the house of my---"_

"Oh, shut up," Adrianna finally yelled, pulling out her wand. The look on her face was dangerous. "_Marsis Minimus_."

"_Oh, oh!"_ Mrs. Black tried to yell, but her voice came out in a tiny, high-pitched wine. _"How dare you! Filth! Scum!" _This time Ron couldn't hold back his laugh and enjoyed the hilarity of it along with Harry and his brothers. Though, the glare Hermione sent him _did_ dampen the fun.

Harry smiled broadly. "I reckon we never tried that."

"Brilliant!" Fred called. It was Ron's sentiment exactly, though he did prefer the burning or knocking down the wall options.

"Not so intimidating like that," Ginny giggled and her father laughed, clapping his daughter on the shoulder. At least, his sister knew when to give up a vendetta and be reasonable. Why couldn't _Hermione_ see the humor of the situation?

Chatter erupted as the group celebrated their victory over the dreaded Mrs. Black. Only two frowns remained, Hermione's and Mrs. Weasley's, the two people who just happen to be the most important women in Ron's life. There was nothing Adrianna could do that would keep these women from their passionate resistance to her forcing her way into their lives.

And for some daft reason, Ron suddenly felt as though it was his job to keep Hermione from ruining his for Harry. What was her problem anyway? If a powerful Empath wanted to hang around and protect Harry and by default the rest of them, well then, have at it.

There wasn't much of a down side, as far as he could see. Maybe with her around Ron wouldn't have to live in constant fear of Hermione's death…he meant all their deaths. He wanted everyone safe. Harry, his family, and yes, Hermione, herself. Nothing wrong with that. Damn it, what was wrong with him?

Now, if Hermione could just see it his way, instead of standing there with her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. Ron flashed back to third year when Hermione had let Malfoy have it over Buckbeak's 'execution.' Ron had to do something before she exploded and caused a real ruckus.

He scanned the room. Thankfully, everyone seemed distracted. The twins were whispering and gesturing toward a twittering Mrs. Black, likely trying to figure out a way to market the new charm they just observed. Ginny was completely absorbed in her obsessive gawking at Harry and his dad seemed to be engaged in a highly charged whispered argument with his mum.

Adrianna and Harry had Dumbledore, Moody, Lupin, and Tonks involved in a conversation about what was behind the wall. Ron looked at them longingly. It would be fun to…

But it was now or never. Ron reached out and carefully wrapped his hand around Hermione's tightly clenched fit, stroking her with his thumb. Relax, love. Her head snapped up to look at him and her stony expression melted, her lip trembling.

He gave her an encouraging smile and felt her hand rest in his. Feeling suddenly warm and pleasantly dizzy, Ron threw caution to the wind and entwined their fingers, hiding their hands behind their backs. He stepped closer…to further conceal their hands, he told himself. Ok, so maybe this _was_ better than discussions about portraits and walls.

The talk quieted when Dumbledore cleared his throat, drawing Ron and everyone else's attention. "Well, my dear," he addressed Adrianna, making her wince slightly. It seemed she couldn't suppress her distaste at the endearment, but maybe she didn't try. "If you wouldn't mind stepping into the dining room for a bit, we'd like a word with you."

Adrianna drew herself up, jaw clenched and arms crossed. Ron seriously thought she was going to refuse. What would Dumbledore do? What would Hermione do? He clutched her hand tighter.

But instead, Adrianna drawled warily, "Sure."

Harry took a hasty step forward, a look of panic on his face. "'Drana, no!"

And what was with the new nickname? It wasn't even a shortened version of her name. Bizarre, is what it was. Ron was sure it was irritating Hermione further. Did Harry have to push _all_ of her buttons?

Adrianna's face softened with an expression that she only seemed to use for Harry. Ron kind of liked that his friend now had someone who would do that for him. "Harry," she said in a soft warning tone. "It will be---"

She was interrupted by a clomping on the stairs. "Harry Potter. Harry Potter, Dobby is so happy to see Harry Potter, sir." The Polyjuice imposter came barreling down the staircase, chattering loudly enough to drown everyone else out. "Dobby has been readying rooms for the great Harry Potter and his cousin, Adrianna Potter."

Dobby threw himself onto Harry, embracing him enthusiastically. Harry, taken off guard, finally hugged him back. "Um…hi, Dobby. Thanks for…everything."

Ron found himself wincing as he remembered his rough treatment of Dobby when he arrived. Little did Harry know that Dobby now had a few new bruises to repay. Hopefully, the elf had forgotten about Ron's abuse. He swallowed back a wave of shame at his reckless behavior. Nothing could be done about it now.

"Oh, sir is too great. It is Dobby's pleasure to serve you." he gushed.

By the time Harry extricated himself Adrianna had gone stony and was scowling at him. Ron was at a loss as to why the sudden change of expression. Women were too confusing. He felt Hermione's hands in his. Why did they have to be so infuriating _and_ so soft?

"'Dranna?" Harry questioned.

"Just a minute. Dobby come here," Adrianna instructed stiffly, taking the elf by the arm and moving next to Harry. What was she about---Oh.

Adrianna stepped back giving them a clear view of the two Harrys, their proximity throwing into sharp contrast the differences between them. They looked more like brothers, than doubles. For the first time, Ron realized that Harry had grown, and while Dobby looked sickly and drawn, Harry was the picture of health. He was also wearing nice, new clothes. Ron pushed away that familiar twang of envy.

Adrianna turned to Dumbledore with barely concealed rage and Ron finally realized why. "This," she gestured to Dobby, "is what Harry looked like in June. And _this_ is what he would look like now if he were still at the Dursleys. Exactly _how_ did I do the wrong thing?"

Ron saw Hermione open her mouth to do just that. Couldn't she see Adrianna had a point? A good one. Blimey, the evidence was right there in front of them. He squeezed her hand and whispered a harsh warning in her ear, "Hermione, not now." She didn't relax, but she didn't say anything, either. He reckoned he was lucky that he got that.

. Completely unphased by Adrianna's challenge Dumbledore smiled, saying, "Shall we, then." As if, they were off to an extremely pleasant feast. He gestured to the dinning room and the double doors opened on their own.

Adrianna nodded in ascent, but was stopped when Harry snapped, "No! You _aren't_ going in there without me. You don't owe them an explanation."

Somehow, the anger and passion in Harry's voice comforted Ron. So, his best mate was really back, then. About bloody time.

"Harry, its fine." Adrianna said calmly.

Harry shook his head, his jaw working. "Not without me."

"There is no reason for you to be in there. We're just going to be discussing where you've been. You were there. You know what happened. You should catch up your friends."

"I _want_ to go," he hissed and while Ron understood Harry wanting to be involved, he couldn't help feel a small twinge on hurt. They hadn't seen him all summer. Didn't Harry want to spend time with them?

Adrianna sighed, "Harry, nothing good can come from you hearing us argue about you. Stay with your friends."

"'Drana," he entreated in a smaller voice. "I don't want them to…" Harry looking worried. He was afraid of what the adults would do to Adrianna. Selfishly, that realization made Ron feel quite a bit better.

Dumbledore lead the adults into the dining room, leaving Harry glaring in their wake. Watching the twins enter seemed to be the final straw for Hermione, who began to pull away, presumably to demand her own time to berate Adrianna.

Before she could speak, Ron pulled her, hard, into the corner and yanked her around to face him. "You heard Harry," he whispered harshly, not understanding why she didn't see how upset he was. She was _supposed_ to be the perceptive one. "He doesn't want anyone fighting with Adrianna."

Hermione growled at him, "If _she_ thinks I'm going to sit back and let her take over his life---"

Damn, Hermione had a flare for the dramatic. "If that's what Harry wants, then that's exactly what you'll do."

She shot him a look of betrayal and absolute fury, before wrenching her hand away. Hermione ignored him completely as she went over to where Harry and Ginny stood.

Great, now she was mad at him as well. Bloody fantastic. Ron was left to watch with dread as the last person entered the dining room and the door closed, leaving the three of them alone with Harry.

* * *

Harry leaned his back against the now closed dining room doors. He felt the Imperturbable Charm being placed, as it pushed him an inch away from the door. Barely noticing Dobby announce that he was going to go downstairs and make breakfast, he slide down the door and sat on the musty carpet.

Great. This was just fantastic. And they wondered why he had been in no hurry to end his surprisingly peaceful adventure and face this…inquisition. Harry looked around at three pairs of grave eyes. He reckoned the welcome home celebration was going to be a bit later. Or maybe it was already over.

Part of him wished he were in the dining room just so that he didn't have to face the hurt and accusatory looks out here. It didn't help, either, that Harry was guilty as sin.

Hermione was clearly the one to worry about. She had that look in her eyes, the one she had right before she slapped Malfoy. Did she want to hit him or Adrianna? While he couldn't accept the later, he wouldn't mind the former. Maybe if Harry just let her hit him, they could just move on and they wouldn't have to talk about it. That would be nice.

Though, at the moment, Hermione hitting Harry was unlikely given the way Ron was staring at her, as if he was ready to physically restrain her at any moment. Actually, Ron hadn't taken his eyes off of her for more than a few seconds and the entire time he had this look in his eyes…a strange look, almost as though he _wanted_ to touch her.

In fact, Harry had noticed him touch Hermione several times. On purpose, even. Ron _never_ touched Hermione. He avoided it like a red-hot cauldron, shrinking away when it happened accidentally, blushing and stammering. Though, Harry tried his best not to think about it, he knew it wasn't because Ron didn't _want_ to touch her. More like he wanted to touch her too much.

And now, it looked as though the thing Harry had been dreading since fourth year was finally happening. Well, he supposed he was lucky he got this long a reprieve. Damn. This is what Harry got for leaving his best friends alone for half the summer.

Yet, surprisingly, the jealousy and fear Harry usually felt over such revelations had lessened considerably. He was different now, stronger, more secure. Somehow, it was now tolerable for his best mates to have a connection that didn't include him. How could he make them understand that going to Japan had been necessary, for all of them?

Harry looked up at Ginny, who was the first of the three to drop to her knees beside him. She had never been a part of their tight-nit group. They had never let anyone in before. It was just the three of them against the world. So, it should have been strange to have her there with them at this moment. In the past, Harry would have already been maneuvering to get Ron and Hermione alone.

But everything was changing now. _They_ were changing. Ron and Hermione were morphing into something…_more_. And Harry...Harry had changed so much in the last year, in the last three months. He couldn't expect things between the three of them to stay the same.

Now, looking at Ginny's soft smile and welcoming gaze, Harry found that he was grateful she was there. Her cheerful calm drew him in. Maybe their relationship could change as well. He would certainly need another friend if Ron and Hermione were going where he was sure they were going and Ginny was one of the few people he knew that he reckoned might just be strong enough to handle his life.

Ron and Hermione finally came to sit as well. It was Hermione, of course, who ultimately broke the silence. "Well, are you going to tell us where you've been all summer or not?" she demanded, earning a glare from Ron.

She was angry, but he had expected that. Harry took a deep breath. "Um… We, er…" His mind kept wandering to what was going on behind that door, but he needed to say something before Hermione imploded. Why was this so hard?

"We started in France," he began carefully, "then Morocco and Belgium, briefly. Um, then we spent that twelve weeks in Japan, well four your time, and the last week we were in America." He reckoned she probably wanted more than an itinerary, but he seemed to be too nervous to get his thoughts together.

Mrs. Weasley, Mad-Eye, and the others, what were they doing to Adrianna? Harry felt a knot form in his abdomen. They couldn't take her away from him. He wouldn't let them.

"Harry." He hadn't realized that he had fallen into silence until Ginny spoke. She was looking at him expectantly. "Details, please." At least _she_ was understanding and reasonable.

"Oh, um…what do you want ---"

"You can start with _why_," Hermione interrupted heatedly, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"Hermione," Ron hissed into her ear, his face probably the closest Harry had ever seen to hers. Oh, _this_ was fun.

Harry bit the inside of his mouth to still the anxiety. "Why I went?"

Hermione frowned and looked at him in a way that made him feel like an idiot. "Why you didn't tell us." There was hurt in her voice. Shite, even though he expected it, Harry hadn't expected it to make him feel so sick.

Harry drew his knees up to his chest. He couldn't stand the look in Hermione's eyes. Resting his elbows on his knees, and his hands on the sides of his face, he kept his eyes on the carpet. "I couldn't stay at the Dursleys'," he said, his words coming out more harsh and defensive than he had intended. "I couldn't."

"Do you think we don't know that!" Hermione burst out.

"Hermione," Ron whispered, but she shrugged off his restraining hand and Harry felt her hand close over his forearm. It jolted him.

More softly, but just as passionately, Hermione argued, "Do you think we wanted you there? We would have understood. You could have told us, so we wouldn't…" she broke off, pulling away, betrayal etched on her face.

Harry swallowed. As bad as he felt that Hermione had worried needlessly about him, he _knew _she wouldn't have been fine with him going with Adrianna. She would have fought it and ruined everything.

This probably wasn't the best time to point that out, though. Instead, he deflected, "Well, Dumbledore wanted me at the Dursleys'. He wouldn't listen to Adrianna---"

"Well, then there must have been a good reason," Hermione snapped. "Don't you think that if Dumbledore wanted---?"

"Yeah, there was a good reason," Harry snapped back. _This_ is what Hermione would have said if she had been told from the beginning. She _wouldn't_ have understood. "Dumbledore thinks his way is the only way. He thinks the only way to protect me is to bury me in a hole and shelter me. I'm not a child anymore and that's _not_ going to work."

Hermione flinched at his tone and Ron and Ginny held shocked expressions. Harry had never shown anything but loyalty to Dumbledore and even now he felt guilty for his harsh words. Hell, he felt guilty for even feeling this way. His friends didn't even know about the Blood Protection spell on the Dursley home. It didn't matter. He was _never_ going back there.

"Harry," Hermione said in a softer tone, one that implied he'd lost his mind. "Dumbledore has protected you for your entire life. You had known Adrianna for only days---"

"And whose fault is that, Hermione?" Harry growled. Then quieter, he said, "He's not my father. He has no right to tell me to do anything, not outside of Hogwarts." His friends were shocked, but Harry could feel the anger growing inside him. "All these people tell me what to do, order me around, have an opinion about what's best for me, but no one has ever claimed me…"

Harry clenched his teeth, his eyes stinging. He did his best to continue without wavering. "I know Sirius would have, if he could, but he couldn't. He was…kinda broken. He couldn't even take care of himself. But I have family now. Adrianna takes care of me and no one is taking her from me. _No_ one," he finished fervently. If they couldn't understand that, then to hell with them!

Harry's speech must have taken the fight from Hermione, because she sort of drooped and refused to look at him. Ginny was staring at him with wet glassy eyes. Great, pity. At least, no one was yelling anymore, making him say things he'd rather keep to himself.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. Ron finally came through, breaking the tension with a broad, if forced, smile. "So, mate, tell us everything. Morocco, Belgium, Japan. Sounds wicked cool."

What would they do without Ron? Grateful, Harry leaned back and smiled to himself. It really had been wicked cool. Amazing, really. "Morocco and Belgium were just a couple of days. Adrianna had some MIA business to finish up. A few foreign dignitaries she had to meet, see if they were lying. That sort of thing."

Ginny sat up straighter, her eyes bright and inquisitive. "She read their secrets?"

Harry shrugged. "Mostly."

"Wow, I didn't realize that the American government was so active in other foreign ministry affairs," Ginny said with genuine curiosity, making Hermione frown anew, probably upset by the mere idea. Did she have to find fault in everything?

"I don't think it's the Americans so much…I mean…" Actually, Harry wasn't at all sure what he meant. His cousin could be very closed lipped about her job. "I kind of got the impression that Adrianna works for a more international group, not just the MIA." Confused frowns were on Harry's friend's faces, but he didn't have the answers. And he wasn't _about_ to admit that and give Hermione more ammunition.

"So, then we went to Japan," he pressed on quickly. "There I learned all about gaining control over my emotions, all these physical and mental techniques. There was this thing, I reckon it translates to Dream Walking or Mind Walking... It makes more sense in Japanese."

"So you speak Japanese now, do you? Hermione said meanly. Ron glared at her and grabbed her knee, digging his fingers in.

"No. I…" Harry stammered, thrown off not only by Hermione's… Was Ron really touching her _knee_?

"So, that's how you learned Occulmency, right?" Ron said with a good-natured smile, throwing Hermione a hopefully look. If anything about Harry's trip was going to win her over it was that he had learned Occulmency. But the scowl on her face didn't budge.

Harry swallowed his disappointment and answered, "Yeah, um… I learned to manipulate my thoughts and memories. It's all done on another plane of existence, so you know, the whole time thing." He closed his eyes, trying to get lost in the memory. "It's really powerful. You confront the worst things in your life. Then…it's as though our emotions drive our magic and after the magic flows freely…" he drifted off, opening his eyes to see his friends staring back at him with odd expressions.

"So, right Occulmency," Harry continued, clearing his throat. Maybe if he tried something more concrete. "While Mind Walking, someone would try to read me and I'd have to imagine walls forming in my mind. Then they would appear, physically, and block the person out. Now, the walls are just…there."

"That's great, Harry," Ron said, without enthusiasm. Harry had a sickening feeling. This wasn't going well. He almost wished Hermione would start screaming again.

Maybe if he tried a less controversial topic. "So, we left Japan at the end of July and Adrianna took me to meet her mum in America. Aunt Kathy was fantastic. She felt pretty guilty for me having to live with the Dursleys all those years. 'Drana told her about my hand-me-downs from Dudley and she got me a whole new wardrobe. Then she insisted on taking me to an amusement park for my birthday..."

Harry's knew he was rambling. The anxiety produced by the frowns around him wasn't helping. Apparently, this _wasn't_ a less controversial topic.

"What's an amusement park?" Ron asked.

"It's a place where Muggles go on Holiday, Ron," Hermione informed him coldly, her voice steadily rising in volume. "It's where Harry went to have _fun_. While we were worried half to death, because he wouldn't talk to anyone on his birthday, because he refused to leave the Dursleys, because he wouldn't even open his presents, he was having _fun_."

Harry felt like he had been slapped. Suddenly, he wished he hadn't come back. He wished he were still in America where no one expected anything of him. Where he didn't keep hurting people.

Hermione took a deep breath, but it seemed she wasn't finished. "Harry, I can't believe you could do this? Why would you trust her more than us? She could have _killed_ you and no one would have known."

Something inside Harry snapped. This went beyond what he deserved. Adrianna had _saved_ him! Fury building, he yelled, "When are you going to trust _me_? I _know_ Adrianna. You should trust that when I say she wants what's best for me, she wants what's best for me. More than _you_, apparently."

Shite, he'd gone too far. He didn't mean that. "Hermione, I---"

But before Harry could apologize, Hermione turned beet red and hissed, "How _dare_---?"

Ron shot to his feet and grabbed her arm. "Hermione, I need to talk to you." Unceremoniously, he dragged her to her feet and pulled her toward the stairs.

"Ron!" she protested in an outraged tone, fighting him. When she looked back at Harry, gone was the fury, now there was only hurt. Harry felt awful. He hoped she could see that.

Ron kept pulling and when he turned to confront her head on, Hermione's anger was back and this time it was directed at Ron. Bloody hell, this was going to be the mother of all rows. And it was all Harry's fault. Maybe they would have preferred it if he stayed in America, after all.

At the bottom of the steps, Ron and Hermione stared at one another. There were long moments of stubborn stand-off, until finally Hermione snapped, "Fine." Then with a flourish, she turned and she stomped up the stairs.

"We'll be right back," Ron called stonily.

Somehow, Harry doubted that. "I reckon Hermione's glad I'm home," he muttered bitterly, as he watched them disappear up the steps.

"She's _thrilled_ you're home, Harry," Ginny said firmly, making Harry flush and turn to look at her. "We _all_ are. Hermione was just really scared when we found out that the person we had been writing to all summer wasn't you. Even before that we…she was afraid. You seemed so distant."

Ginny voice was soft, her eyes were sad, and in thirty seconds she managed to fill Harry with more guilt than any of Hermione's tirades. He swallowed. "I know. I'm really sorry, Gin. I don't know what else to say." He really wished he did. Harry didn't want to fight with his friends. Not when he hadn't seen them in months. Not ever, really. He hated it.

"You have to understand," Ginny entreated softly. "When you were acting all strange and distant all summer, Hermione kinda blamed Adrianna. We all did a bit. We spent a lot of time hating her." She looked down shyly and then back up at him through lowered lashes. There was something in that look that tugged at his insides. Made him feel as though he should…what exactly?

"But Ginny, it's not her fault. I decided to go. Be angry at _me_." He wanted her to understand. He wanted her to accept his cousin. He wasn't sure why, but it meant a lot to him.

Ginny sighed despondently. "How can we be angry at _you_?" Harry almost laughed. Hermione certainly wasn't having trouble being angry at him. But Ginny's expression was so sincere…

"Look, I'm really sorry that I scared everyone, but I can't be sorry I went. I needed this, Ginny. Adrianna helped me deal with Sirius' death, to understand that it wasn't my fault. She made me to learn Occulmency and now…_now_, I'm not a danger to you anymore. I can actually be with my friends without worrying that I'll get you all killed." He took a deep breath. "I need you to be able to trust Adrianna."

That was probably what he should have said to Ron and Hermione. Of course, _now_ he was able to find the words. Maybe it was Ginny who made the difference. She had this amazing, soft, yielding look, concerned and caring. She was really quite pretty. Harry had never noticed how pretty she was. Strange.

"It's going to be a tough sell," she told him candidly. "I mean, _I_ want to, Harry, but you have to….Harry, two days ago the Burrow was attacked."

The bottom fell out of his stomach. "What!" He got up on his knees, his fists automatically tightening. Harry had no…Shite! "What happened!"

Ginny gnawed on her lip. "There were Death Eaters. I was Stupefied, if Fred hadn't come home that night… Anyway, the point is Hermione and I had notes, research we had done on Empaths and they took it all. Along with a book from Hermione's house."

"Hermione's house?" Harry shook his head in disbelief, trying to digest it all. His jaw clenched, anger filling him. "Wait, you were Stupefied. Are you ok?"

"I'm fine…" she trailed off with a smile and looked away. It was an odd reaction.

"What?" he asked.

Ginny shook her head. "It's just good to have the real Harry back." Harry felt his face heat up and he suddenly had great difficulty looking at her. She hastily cleared her throat, saying, "But, yeah, they hit Hermione's house as well. When we figured out what was missing, Hermione was sure it was Adrianna who had arranged the attack."

Harry scoffed. "Adrianna was with me, she couldn't have---"

"But we didn't know that, Harry. What else were we to think---?"

"How about that Voldemort wants information on Adrianna," Harry argued. "She's a target now as well." A target as well. Because of him. He pushed the thought aside. Adrianna could take care of herself. She could take care of herself.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Ginny said softly, though Harry couldn't tell if she meant it.

Now that Harry thought about it, he reckoned it did make _some_ sense for Hermione to blame Adrianna, after the way her cousin had left Hogwarts. And if Hermione was attacked, then…Oh god.

Urgently, Harry asked, "Was Hermione or her parents at home when the Death Eaters---?"

"No, no," Ginny reassured. Then a wicked smile came across her face. It seemed extremely inappropriate.

Harry looked at her curiously. What was she about? "Ginny?"

Her eyes lit with amusement. "Well," she began, moving closer to him, and whispering conspiratorially, "after they found me, Mum went to Ron's room and he was missing, so we all assumed he had been taken."

Ginny shook her head at what must have been a horrified expression on Harry's face. "No, it's all right. I mean, if you wanted to punch him again for worrying us, that would be ok. But…" She giggled. "Turns out, we found him the next morning at _Hermione's_ holiday cottage. Trying to sneak home. He'd spent the night. In her _room_."

Harry's jaw dropped. In her room. Ron snuck over to Hermione's and slept in her bloody room. What the hell had he missed? And bloody hell, he had thought he was ready for them to move in this direction, but damn, they _shared_ a bed. Well, room…but still.

Taking a deep breath, Harry managed to ask hesitantly, "So…they're together, then?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I don't think so. They're far too thick for that. At least Ron is…Oh, I'm sorry, Harry. Does this bother you?"

He smiled. Her concern was nice. "No, I'm just surprised. Not that they…you know. That it happened so fast. I mean, after it went so slow for so long. I've kinda accepted it as inevitable, though."

Ginny shrugged, giving him an ironic smile. "Well, I don't think Ron's made a similar discovery, so I doubt it will be all that fast after all." Well, that was good. Harry needed time to get used to this.

It occurred to him that he liked the way Ginny…talked. It was interesting and smart and made him smile, made him comfortable. Otherwise, he wouldn't have said, "They're different though, Ron and Hermione."

She nodded. "They think they're being subtle, but they're kinda---"

"---really focused on one another---"

"---and before they never used to---"

"---touch---"

"---or look at each other for too long---"

"---they'd get all flustered and start a fight---"

"---and now they can't seem to stop themselves," Ginny finished, breaking off in delighted giggles.

Harry grinned at her. It was amazing how much better he felt. Maybe Ron and Hermione dating wouldn't be so bad if he had Ginny to make fun of them with. For the first time, it felt really good to be home. They smiled, stupidly, at each other for long moments before Ginny looked away shyly.

Harry straightened his legs and crossing them at the ankles. "So, besides hating me and Adrianna and getting attacked by Death Eaters, how was your summer?"

Ginny laughed, moving to sit next to him, leaning against the door, as well. She started telling her stories and Harry found himself relaxing more and more. No, this wouldn't be bad at all.

* * *

Hermione stomped up the stairs in front of Ron, fury building with each step. Fury at sodding Adrianna who barged in and was now trying to take over their lives. Fury at Harry for being so ruddy happy about the whole thing. And _now_, fury at Ron for being on _their_ side. Couldn't he ever take her side? Just once?

Their best friend lies and tricks them, abandons them to go gallivanting around the world with a woman he had known less than one week, a woman for all they knew could be plotting their deaths.

Then Harry comes home and he gets angry at her for not automatically trusting that _awful_ Adrianna. After he left them alone for a month, assuming the worst, scared half to death when they found an imposter in his house and all the while he was at an amusement park! An _amusement_ park! Having the time of his life. And, of _course_, Ron takes their side. Naturally.

Hermione stopped at the first floor landing, planning on entering the drawing room, but she felt Ron firmly push on her back. "Keep going," he said, close to her ear. "I don't want to be interrupted."

A shiver ran through her, followed by a flash of warmth, as Hermione's body became instantly hypersensitive to her surroundings. His words brought entirely different kinds of thoughts to mind. Thoughts that she knew he didn't intend.

She had decided last night (It was last night wasn't it? The days seemed to blur. It was three or four in the morning now. Odd, she didn't seem tired at all) to…well, to seduce Ron. Sort of.

The plan was to encourage a physical relationship in any way possible and then, along their strong bond of friendship, Ron wouldn't be able to keep from falling in love with her. Hopefully. It was worth the risk, she reminded herself, becoming increasingly flushed and tingly.

They were going somewhere where they wouldn't be _interrupted_. That would be nice. Yes, privacy was good. Ron led Hermione up to the fourth floor, to a small-unused bedroom. They certainly weren't likely to be found there. Her heart pounded. Her back burned where Ron touched it. How was she going to do this again?

She…uh she needed to get him to kiss her again. Awake this time. It wouldn't work if Hermione made the first move. It had to be Ron. He was both a stereotypical male and insecure in his masculinity. He had to be in charge of this. Well, he needed to _think_ he was at least. So, all she needed to do is give him permission and, hopefully, his lust would take it from there. He _was_ sixteen after all.

Permission to touch her without expectations of a relationship. Oh god. This was insane. _No_. No, it was all right. The relationship _would_ come later. When Ron was more…ready. Hermione just had to have faith. Oh dear.

When Ron closed the door to the room, Hermione didn't think she was ever going to be able to breathe again, but then he turned and looked at her, arms crossed, jaw clenched, eyes shooting blue fire at her. Oh right, they came here to fight, not snog.

Hermione willed herself to remember all the reasons she was angry. Adrianna. Harry's betrayal. Ron taking their side. She should be ashamed that her thoughts had drifted even for a second from these more important matters. This wasn't like her at all.

But all of that seemed so far away and Ron was so close and he was standing there in a pose of masculine dominance and it was making her weak in the knees. When he crossed his arms like that his biceps bulged a bit, in that lovely gangly teenaged way.

Only a few days ago she had slept on that bicep. It felt so soft under her cheek and so strong under her hand. Yesterday, Ron had thrown Dobby against the wall...and it had been wrong, naturally, but it had been really sexy as well. Oh my. This wasn't what she was supposed to be thinking about.

"Are you going to say what's on your mind or just give me the silent treatment?" Ron demanded heatedly.

For a minute, Hermione didn't understand. All she could see was his lips, full but masculine… She'd had no idea they would feel so good.

"Fine," Ron snapped. "If you're going to make me start… How about you tell me exactly what got into you down there, yelling at Harry?"

Hermione felt an immediate rise as Ron yelled at her. Why was he attacking her when she…? It was his fault she was distracted anyway, stupid git. His gall was beyond comprehension.

First, he sided with Harry against her. Then, he plays the domineering prat and yanks her away, for a _scolding_ of all things. And _now,_ he has the nerve to distract her with his body and his plain ruddy attractiveness. It really wasn't fair and it made her right livid. Really it did.

Hermione let herself be drawn into the blind passion of fury, glad for the confidence it afforded her. "What's got into me! If you didn't notice, _I_ was the only one making any kind of sense down there."

"Hermione," Ron barked irritably, "Adrianna isn't what you thought she was. She really helped Harry, can't you see that?"

He was _so_ naïve. "No, I can't see that, because we don't _know_ that! There is no evidence!"

"Harry's the evidence, Hermione. He's happy and healthy like we haven't seen him in years, ever maybe."

Hermione didn't want to hear that. There was something suspicious about Adrianna, she just _knew_ it. And she _stole_ Harry from them. "She has a spell on him."

Ron rubbed his face in frustration. "Hermione, you're not thinking---"

Her eyes flashed. "Rubbish! My thinking is perfectly fine. You're the one that _woman_ has befuddled."

"You're just jealous!"

It was the worst possible thing he could have said. Hermione felt herself turning bright red. Why would he say that? Was he attracted to Adrianna? Did he think she was more exciting than Hermione? Was she a threat? Her stomach tied in knots. Was Adrianna going to steal Ron from her as well?

Suddenly, tears were in her eyes and Hermione had the undeniable need to hurt Ron like he had hurt her. "So, that's the problem is it? You've been thinking with your…with your _boy_ parts."

Ron turned instantly red and sputtered, "My what?"

"That's it, isn't it? You're taking her side because you think she's attractive!" Hermione could feel herself becoming hysterical. The disappointment she felt was shutting down all sense of reason.

"Hermione, you're not making sense."

There was a desperate edge to his voice that she interpreted as guilt. Her eyes burned. "You think she'd more attractive than me!" she burst out, immediately regretting her words. When had she become such a _girl_? She was pitiable.

"That's absurd!" Ron screamed, his voice squeaky. "I told you I think you're beautiful." He stared at his shuffling feet.

He's lying, Hermione thought. That's why Ron couldn't look her in the eye. As her hopes shattered so did the last remnants of control over her words. "If that were true then you'd be able to kiss me while we're awake!"

Hermione didn't have time to reconsider her words. The next thing she knew she was pushed up against the wall and could feel the entire length of Ron's body pressed against her. Gasping, she looked up into his eyes. They had that glazed look again, except this time there was something predatory….

Hermione had less than a moment to contemplate the look. His crushed his mouth against hers and there was no way she could keep her eyes open. Ron devoured her. What he lacked in finesse he more than made up for in passion. She had one last thought before she gave herself over to responding with everything she had in her….

Thank heavens.

* * *


	15. Chapter Fifteen

* * *

Disclaimer: The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen

* * *

**

"So there Mum was, standing in the twins' room, with a pair of purple lace knickers in her hand and Fred says to her…dead serious, "But Mum, we're just holding them for Percy…he collects them, didn't you know?'"

Harry broke out into uproarious laughter, making it hard for Ginny to finish the story without giggling uncontrollably. Taking deep breathes she finished, "…they were out and in their own flat in two days. Mum still can't look Angelina in the eye."

Harry was doubled over in mirth, clutching at his sides. Ginny's laughter faded as she watched him. She had never seen him this relaxed…happy…at least not with her.

He looked up at her with a smile that made her heart flip. "Ginny, you are an absolutely brilliant story teller."

She smiled with pride and gave him her best mischievous grin. "Better than Ron?"

He laughed again. "Better than Ron. But if you repeat that, I'll deny it to the day I die."

"It's too late, Mr. Potter, I know your secret now. If I want it to be known, it will be known. I have my ways."

"I'm sure you do." He was smiling at her with a lop-sided grin and intense green eyes. It made her giddy and more than a bit light headed.

She wondered if she could actually survive a real friendship with Harry Potter.

Ginny felt the double doors she was leaning against give way. It was bloody well time; they had been in there for hours... the sun was already coming up.

But only Adrianna slipped out, closing the door behind her. Ginny felt the Imperturbable Charm being placed again. "I see you haven't gone far?" Adrianna remarked.

Harry shrugged and looked up at his cousin with a worried grimace. "How'd it go?"

She sank to the floor in front of them, sitting cross legged with her elbow on the floor and her head in her hand. "The inquisition is over…now they're 'discussing' things privately. Rather a waste of time on their part, as I can still hear them, Imperturbable or no Imperturbable." She rolled her eyes. "Though I am glad to be out of there."

"Was it awful?" Harry asked worriedly. "They aren't going to try and make you leave, are they?"

She shook her head. "Naw, I won them over at least that far."

"Did you threaten to hex them, or just use blackmail?" Harry asked with that lop-sided grin, again.

"Neither, as of yet…got by with that pesky truth thing."

"So, just manipulation, then," he laughed.

"Harry, love," she drawled, "How many times do I have to tell you…powers of persuasion. Manipulation is such an ugly word."

Ginny felt the familiar loneliness of being isolated in a group of people. It was right frightening, the easy closeness Harry and his cousin had developed

So much had changed for him, would Ginny fit in better or worse now?

She noticed Adrianna smiling gently at her and swallowed her unease. Would this woman share her thoughts with Harry? If the Empath were really going to be around all the time now, how would any of them keep any secrets?

"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Adrianna asked.

Harry shrugged, "They went up stairs a while ago."

Adrianna frowned and closed her eyes. She seemed to be concentrating.

"Where are they?" Harry asked.

"Still upstairs." His cousin grinned wickedly. "No troubles."

Catching the gleam in her eye, Ginny's curiosity took over. "What are they doing?"

Adrianna just shook her head. "It's no use," Harry said. "She won't tell. Privacy…blah…blah…blah…"

"You wouldn't want me telling your secrets, now would you?" The response was for Harry, but her eyes were on Ginny.

"I suppose not. So, do we sit and have you listen to their conversation and tell us…" Harry asked eagerly.

"God, no, I've had more than enough of their thoughts, thank you very much. They are exhausting."

For the first time Ginny felt tired as well. "We should probably go to sleep."

Harry shook his head. "I'm too agitated to sleep." He looked at his cousin. "Besides, I'd like to do that thing."

She nodded grimly. "And we need to send out those letters to the Ministry and I really want to change Dobby back…he's creeping me out."

Ginny wondered if she were going to be excluded again. The rush she had felt from Harry's undivided attention was fading quickly.

"We can start downstairs, then," Harry said. "Dobby's down there and there's a perch for the owls."

"'Kay," Adrianna turned and fixed Ginny with a grim look.

Now's the time where they say 'run along and play, Ginny,' she thought bitterly. She was getting bloody sick of it. What would happen if she refused to go?

"Ginny, do you feel up to talking about Sirius?" Harry's cousin asked.

The girl's stomach plummeted; she hadn't expected that. Fear, anxiety and sadness filled her. They had avoided the topic all summer. Worrying about Harry had allowed Ginny to avoid thinking about how _she_ felt about Sirius' death.

"I think you should," Adrianna said with confidence. Rising she extended a hand to Ginny. "Come with us."

Confused, but thankful she wasn't being dismissed, Ginny allowed the Empath to help her up. She half expected to feel that odd calming feeling she remembered feeling when she first met Adrianna…but there was nothing.

Ginny followed Harry down the stairs. He rushed to greet his pet, stroking her and feeding her the owl treats that Dobby was quick to provide. Adrianna praised Hedwig for the job she had done with the fake letters and Ginny was briefly bitter as she remembered their deception.

Dobby insisted on serving the enormous breakfast he made. Ginny sat next to Harry, who was still fussing over Hedwig, "I really missed you, girl. Hedwig, we have some very important letters that need to go to the Ministry. Don't really trust anyone else to bring them." Hedwig preened proudly as Harry attached the stack of letters Adrianna had handed him to her leg.

After Hedwig had flown off, Adrianna pulled out her miniature potion trunk from her bag. She laid it on the kitchen floor and enlarged it. As she rummaged through it for Dobby's antidote, Ginny finally had the courage to ask, "Harry, what is it we're going to do, exactly?"

"Oh…we're uh…gonna sorta decontaminate the place of painful memories…sorta." At her confused expression, he bit the inside of his cheek and continued, shyly. "This summer we did a lot of _talking_ about Sirius. I wasn't exactly thrilled about it at first…it was right painful, but then it was good, you know. It makes you feel like you're honoring him, but at the same time it takes the power of the memories to hurt you. All the irrational stuff…the guilt…the blame, you just see it as unfounded."

Harry finished and turned to Adrianna. Ginny hadn't realized was sitting across from them at the kitchen table. She smiled approvingly and Harry sighed with relief. "Very well said, Harry."

Ginny was still. She couldn't believe that Harry had said all that…to her of all people.

A newly restored Dobby came bounding over to place heaping breakfast plates in front of them. Ginny watched Harry out of the corner of her eye as he ate….ate like she hadn't seen him eat in months. She was ashamed to say that she did keep tabs on his dietary habits. Again, she took in his handsome profile…the sickly, drawn Harry was already fading from memory.

Ginny picked at her food, before she knew it the other two had cleared their plates and Adrianna was asking, "Ready?"

Ginny felt panicky…ready for what?

"Oh, we forgot to finish explaining...sorry, jet lag and so on," Adrianna apologized, confusing Ginny more. "Ginny you know how sometimes when you enter a room, a memory hits you so hard it's like a punch to the gut?"

Ginny nodded, trying not to remember all the places that evoked such memories for her. She still couldn't walk by Moaning Myrtle's Lavatory; occasionally she walked twenty minutes out of her way just to avoid it.

"We're going to take away the rooms' power to do that," Adrianna finished.

Ginny's jaw dropped. "You can do that? With a spell?"

Adrianna chuckled ruefully, "No… never mix magic and emotions…ever! Disastrous, trust me. We're going to use psychology."

"It's simple, Gin, we're just going to go to each room and tell every memory that we can call to mind…good and bad…that way there is nothing left that the room can throw at you."

"You don't have to talk Ginny," his cousin said softly. "But you really should at least listen."

Ginny was feeling uncomfortable, like she was intruding, which was odd, since she usually enjoyed that. "Are you sure you _want_ me listening?" she asked Harry.

Harry nodded.

Ginny gulped as the chronicle started. It was so odd being privy to the secret world of Harry Potter, after all this time. Somehow even the most mundane story seemed intimate. She felt voyeuristic…and fascinated, before she got lost in the narrative.

It was all so sad.

Harry started mildly enough, with the first time he had spent time with Sirius in the kitchen. They all smiled as he talked about how the twins had levitated the stew and sent it flying. Harry talked with gratitude about how Sirius had stood up to Mrs. Weasley and insisted that he be told about Voldemort.

Ginny remembered…she had been the only one banished that night.

Then a dozen anecdotes followed. Sirius making fun of Mundungus, Sirius teasing Remus, Sirius growling at Snape, and Sirius moping at not being able to leave the house and properly join the fight…

He had properly joined the fight in the end. With this thought, Ginny successfully fought back tears.

Sirius's favorite diner was lamb and his favorite desert blackberry cobbler. Ginny hadn't known that but she _had_ known about his weakness for heavy red wine.

Harry's final tale didn't include Sirius at all, but it broke her heart even more. "all He told the story of when he had Flooed Grimmauld Place to talk to Sirius and gotten Kreacher instead, whose betraying lies sent them to the Department and Mysteries and lead to Sirius' death.

It had been Ginny's idea to Floo Sirius the first time. Great bit of advice that was. No wonder no one included her.

As Harry told this tale his jaw clenched and his eyes filled with tears. Ginny again felt she was intruding. There was silence as Harry fell silent and Ginny became aware of the food that still sat in front of her. It turned her stomach. She pushed it away.

"You want to say anything, Ginny?" Adrianna asked.

Ginny shook her head a little too vigorously.

The Empath accepted this easily and turned to ask Harry if he was ready to move on. He nodded his head distractedly, and for a moment he looked like the Harry of before, the Harry of after The Department of Mysteries. Adrianna approached him and placed a hand on his arm. Together they made there way up the stairs, Ginny following at a distance.

They skipped the ground floor and Ginny's eyes lingered on the closed dining room door as she climbed the steps. They spent a few minutes in Ginny and Hermione's room, but though Harry had spent a lot of time there, Sirius hadn't, so they moved on quickly.

Across the hall, they entered the large drawing room and Ginny felt the assault of memories that had been described earlier. She felt a heavy weight settle upon her and she had to concentrate to breathe properly.

She wasn't sure she wanted to play this game anymore.

For some reason, Harry started with Christmas and how light and happy Sirius had been. Christmas reminded Ginny of her father being attacked and how frightened she had been and how hard she tried to hide it.

One night, she had snuck into this room to cry in the corner. Sirius had found her there. He had just sat next to her until she was all cried out….then never once mentioned it again. Exactly the thing to do, really. She…

One minute, she was under delicate control and the next she was sobbing so hard she couldn't stand. She felt an arm come around her, supporting her, and guiding her until she was sitting on the sofa. It took her awhile to realize it was Adrianna, by then she didn't have the strength to pull away. She sat next to Ginny with her arm around her, whispering soothing noises.

Ginny wanted to feel angry….invaded…who the hell did this woman think she was?

She looked up to see Harry in front of her and she swiped away her tears, furious with herself for her display. "I'm sorry," she ground out, bitterly.

Harry fell to his knees and took her hands in his, "Don't be…" His throat seemed too thick for him to continue. Ginny saw tears flowing down his cheeks.

"It's important to cry. It takes strength to cry, to feel the emotions," Adrianna whispered, as if she was telling the world and it was not directed toward Ginny.

Regardless, the words caused the last drop of resistance to leave Ginny's body. All the air in her lungs left her in a whoosh and the tears followed in a deluge. She sobbed and sobbed. Time became meaningless…at some point Ginny's head dropped to Adrianna's shoulder.

And at some point Harry buried his eyes in their joined hands and washed them with tears of his own.

* * *

Ron was drowning. 

Willingly, happily drowning and there was nothing he could do could stop it. He had somehow found the strength to kiss Hermione, but he would never be able to find the strength to stop.

He couldn't even control what he was doing. He was afraid that he might be hurting her; he was kissing her so hard. His mouth was sucking, nipping, _devouring_ her like she was the only food he had had in months. He knew that there was no skill in the kiss, but he couldn't pull back. His mind was numb with sensation, his body on fire.

Any will Ron had left he used to keep one hand firmly placed on the wall behind them, maintaining their balance, but primarily keeping his hand from becoming…disrespectful. He didn't want to make her feel cheep…she was too important. She deserved more than this…than him. This crazed mass of teenaged lust who couldn't even control himself around her.

But her lips were moving beneath his with equal fervor and it was making him dizzy. Her hands were clutching his shoulders. He knew she was on her toes to meet him, but even so his neck and his back were crouched over to reach her. They were starting to ache.

More than anything, he wanted to use his hands to grab her delightful arse and lift her against him, but he forced himself not to. The hand buried in her curls flexed with the effort to stay away.

He tilted her head to one side, improving the angle. He felt the undeniable need to taste her…really taste her. For long moments he fought it, but the need was too much and he was far too weak.

He planned to do it tentatively, make sure she wanted it, but somehow he just aligned his lips with hers and forced them open. He was amazed at how easily they parted. Again he hesitated, worried that he might bruise her with the pressure.

Then she moaned and his knees buckled. It set him into motion. He swallowed the sound and slid his tongue into her mouth…it was the most amazing thing…her taste was completely unique…entirely Hermione. It was instantly his favorite taste in the world.

He was addicted to her. From that moment on, he was hers to do as she wished…use him for as long as she pleased and discard him when she was done ….it didn't matter. He'd do anything to just keep kissing her.

She slumped against him and he groaned as her lips fell from his. Her head fell against his chest and he could hear her gasping for breath…or maybe that was him. He tenderly cradled her head against him, willing her not to hate him, as his own forehead fell against the wall behind her. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, waiting for his body to function normally again.

It was then he realized that the full length of his body was pressed against her. More specifically, the part of him that most betrayed what his pathetic, perverted body really wanted from her. It was so hard and alive with sensation that he could feel the softness of her belly through the constricting jeans.

He imagined her horrified expression as she realized what was going on. She'd call him a pig and… He found the strength to take a step back and break contact.

The movement made her look up and meet his eyes. The visual contact was jolting and he felt a not all together unpleasant tug in his stomach.

Her lips were red and swollen and he mentally berated himself. He _had_ been too rough. Her checks were the most fantastic shade of pink and her eyes…warm chocolate eyes and…he was drowning again…he felt himself pulled toward her again…drawn by an invisible force.

"Ron," she breathed, the first words spoken in what seemed like forever. They brought back cold reality.

His hand dropped from her head and he swallowed, stepping back again. She clutched his shirt, keeping him from going too far. He searched her face. "I'm sorry." The words just fell out of his mouth.

Her face fell but her voice was husky when she asked, "For kissing me?"

Shite, how could he be sorry for that? It had been the single best moment…

He managed to shake his head, as he sputtered, "…for being rough…for hurting you." His voice cracked.

Her hand reached up and cradled his cheek. "Don't be sorry….I …." Then in a tiny voice she admitted, "I liked it."

He had died. Died and gone to the great beyond, because there was no way this was really happening.

Words failed him completely as she searched his face with her familiar contemplative expression. Then she took his hand. "C 'mere," she commanded gently, with an encouraging smile. She led him to the old, moth-ridden bed and sat beside him.

He purposely fixed his gaze ahead, pleading with his body to settle down. He was grateful for the confining, painful jeans…the discomfort was worth it if he could keep his humiliation from Hermione.

Didn't she understand how dangerous it was to be on a bed with him at that instant?

"Ron?'

Oh, crap, she wanted to talk.

"Mmm," he responded, with growing anxiety

She took a moment, and seemed to be gathering her courage. "Do you remember, the other night….I know it was an unusual situation but…that was my first kiss, you know."

His hand flexed involuntarily in hers. Self-loathing filled him. He nodded and swallowed through a thick throat. He said the only thing that he thought might be even remotely comforting. "Mine, too."

He could feel her gaze on his face, but knew that if he looked at her he was done for. He wished he had the strength to let go of her hand.

"Um…did you enjoy it?" she asked hesitantly.

His involuntary laugh had a hysterical edge to it. "Yeah…yeah I enjoyed it."

Definitely the understatement of the century.

"So, I was kinda wondering if you'd…um….maybe like to…er…keep doing it."

Ron felt himself choke, as his eyes flew to her face. She hadn't just said what he thought she said? Wide-eyed, he sputtered for several moments before managing to get out the words, well, one word actually. "What?"

Her confidence appeared to waver and she bit her lip, which was a right brilliant strategy, really.

She bravely kept her eyes aligned with his. "I wondered if you'd like to practice with me?"

"Practice?" It wasn't very manly to faint, was it?

"Mmhm, seeing as neither of us have much experience… I thought that we might be able to use the practice. Um…most kids at school know loads more than I do and I… I eh…We trust each other and we feel comfortable around each other…so I think it's only the logical choice… I mean practice _is_ important."

Had she gone mad? Was this really Hermione Granger?

Then again who else would say, 'It's the only logical choice.' Fuck, was she actually suggesting they _study_ kissing.

She was bloody fantastic.

When he didn't immediately respond Hermione pressed on. "I mean if you're not attracted to me, I understand…" She took his laugh of disbelieve as encouragement. "But we do seem to…work well together."

Did they ever.

Why was she doing this? Didn't she want more? Didn't she want to "practice" with someone she was dating? That's what she deserved.

Maybe she understood the awful truth; he wasn't good enough to date her…but there was going to be little else available for the rest of the summer.

Shaking away the extremely painful thought, Ron reprimanded himself, 'Just agree, idiot.' It's the chance of a lifetime….he got permission to snog the girl he fancied, without strings. None of that boyfriend stuff that he knew he'd just bollocks up, sooner rather than later.

"Um, ok," he managed.

Her eyes brightened. "Ok?" she repeated hopefully.

He nodded, smiling back. Yeah, I'd…I'd really love to practice with you."

She smiled brightly at him and he knew he was grinning back like a fool.

After long minutes Hermione nervously said, 'Well then…um I suppose we should get back to Harry…"

Harry…Harry who? Harry! Bloody hell, he'd forgotten all about Harry. Some friend he was.

She started to get up and he tightened the grip on her hand. As much as Ron didn't want to break whatever spell they were under…they couldn't go downstairs without settling a few things. Looking at her cautiously he said, "Um, Hermione…about Harry...and Adrianna."

"Oh…right." She fell back on the bed and stared ahead, thoughtfully. "Well um… I guess we need to come to a compromise."

"Compromise?" he asked, dumbly. He wondered if he had become completely addled, because all he could seem to do is repeat what she said.

She nodded. "Well, how about I promise to that I'll try and be open minded about Adrianna, if you agree that there might be more there than meets the eye…" She flicked a nervous glance at him.

He was in awe of her. He didn't deserve to be in the same room as her. When he found his voice, he told her, "You are the most amazing person, you know that?"

She blushed and gave him a watery smile. "Oh, Ron." Then she was in his arms again and he hugged her tightly, savoring the moment.

The hug went on way too long to be interpreted as friendly…but unfortunately she did pull away before they could get started on Practice

She stood up. "I guess we should, you know, get back to the others."

Ron felt himself throb painfully in his jeans. "Uh, you just go ahead. Give me a few minutes, I'll be right down."

She nodded anxiously. As she walked to the door his eyes traveled her form. Fuck, but her curves got more luscious every day. He loved how wild he had made her hair during their kissing.

"Hermione," he called in a choked voice, as she opened the door. She looked back at him with an uneasy expression. "Do you think we could…um…start Practicing…soon?"

Her smile blinded him. In a shy, but seductive voice, she said, "I think that can be arranged." She slipped out of the door.

Ron fell back on the bed.

Holy, fucking shite! Was he dreaming?

He went over the events in his head, smiling broadly, until the ache became unbearable, making him remember why he had stayed behind in the first place.

Taking a deep breath, Ron attempted to call to mind every horrific image he could think of, but it was no use. No image stayed in his mind for more than a split second. All he could think about was her…from potions class to spiders; nothing made the least bit of difference to his current condition.

Sighing, he locked the door and lay back down on the bed. Unzipping his jeans, he let the images of Hermione flow. This time he didn't need a complicated fantasy. This time all it took was the memory of her saying shyly, "I wondered if you'd like to practice with me?"

* * *

Harry leaned his cheek against Ginny's knee, feeling lulled by the lilting tones of her voice. Once Ginny started talking, it seemed she couldn't stop. She was a natural storyteller. Even the saddest tale was told with a dark, humorous edge that had him laughing through his tears. 

He looked up to see her sitting with her head against Adrianna's shoulder and he felt his heart expand. Ginny couldn't possibly understand what it meant to him for her to let her guard down around his cousin. Something inside him moved.

"What in the name of all things magical is going on in here?" The demand came from the doorway where Mrs. Weasley stood, hands on hips, her eyes shooting ice at her daughter's headrest. The sight of only daughter, tearstained and limp, consorting with the interloper, appeared to be more than she could handle.

Harry felt a wave of fear, mixed with protectiveness. He would not allow her to ruin this. No one was going to ruin this. "We're just talking about Sirius," he said calmly, proud of the even tone of his voice. He had learned that control in Japan.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes narrowed, as she looked accusingly at his cousin.

"Well." The older woman seemed to be waging an intense inner battle. "I think you've had quite enough. I won't have these children upset any further."

Adrianna shook her head slowly. "They're all ready upset. Ignoring is not protecting. They need to talk."

Mrs. Weasley sputtered, "When you're under my roof..."

"I'll obey your rules, but we're not under your roof." Harry knew that the serenity in his cousin's voice had taken years of practice… that it was just a shield. The rage underneath must be a frightening thing. He watched the stand off between Adrianna and Mrs. Weasley with increasing unease.

Ginny raised her head defiantly, the gesture spoiled by the sniffle she couldn't stop. "I want to talk about it. Both of us do." She gestured toward Harry. "It feels good."

"Then by all means we should talk about it…isn't that right, Molly?" Mr. Weasley entered the room from behind his wife. He took her arm gently and led her into the room into a sofa across from them.

Mrs. Weasley sat stiffly, but stayed quiet, probably determined that if she couldn't stop the proceedings, she could at least monitor them.

Harry looked up at his cousin's carefully arranged feature. She said pleasantly to Mr. Weasley, "Do you have a story to share about Sirius, Mr. Weasley?"

He smiled back, kindly. "Indeed I do. Indeed I do."

* * *

As Hermione closed the door to the fourth floor bedroom she paused, her hand frozen on the door knob. All the breath left her body and her legs turned to mush. She leaned back against the closed door. 

She wasn't sure why Ron had chosen to stay behind, but she was grateful for it, she …needed a minute.

Heavens! Where had that come from? Practice? Really! It was either a stroke of genius or of insanity…probably both.

It had worked perfectly…just the thing she was looking for. Of course, it did make her seem a bit of a slag.

What if she ruined any chance for a relationship, because he lost all respect for her?

Stop. That's ridiculous. She was panicking. Slow down, they were just talking about a few practice kisses. There was nothing slutty or slaggish about kisses.

Though it had felt that way… the kisses they had shared. They were so much more than she had expected. She had expected kissing to be soft, sweet…kind of awkward…affectionate, maybe. She hadn't expected the heat, the rush, these odd liquid sensations that had invaded her body.

She reckoned that was what people made such a big deal over. She'd always thought that they were being quite silly. Maybe there was more to it than she knew…

_What_ was she getting herself into?

Hermione had thought she knew quite a lot about human sexuality… well, not a lot…enough, though. She had read biology books on the subject. Slot A, Tab B and all that…it seemed quite uncomfortable, really. Though it did seem that it must be pleasurable to the man…and she had heard vague references that it can be pleasurable to the woman as well. Hermione just couldn't imagine how it could be.

Yes, she had done her research and been quite satisfied. When her mother had asked her if she had any questions she had honestly answered "no." She'd actually never had a _conversation_ about sex or boys or kissing….

Well, she and Ginny had talked about boys and kissing…but nothing that had prepared her for _this. _And who else was she to talk to, Harry? Ron? Please. And, honestly, why bother talking about it? There were so many more important things to talk about, to read about, to learn about.

And it wasn't like any boy was going to want to do that with her, any time soon. Well, maybe Viktor….but yuck… really. It just wasn't an issue. She'd been pinning after Ron in one form or another for so long….and things were moving so slowly, she didn't need to…she had been fine with that.

All she had really dreamed about was some hand holding…a tender kiss….a declaration in front of the entire school declaring his undying love for her….maybe a cute little cottage, with a multitude of redheaded babies…in the future of course, the far, far distant future….Anyway, the point was... there was very little physical about her daydreams about Ron.

Though lately, things had been shifting, like her body knew something that her mind didn't. It was reacting instinctively to Ron, even in her dreams, and it was downright terrifying.

She had been completely delusional! Nothing more to know! It wasn't important! There was so much more…and now she was going in blind. She had naively instigated a physical relationship, not knowing what that might really entail. Did she really think she could keep it from getting out of hand? Did she even know what that meant? She certainly hadn't had a clue about kissing…

Well, that's what the Practice is for, dummy!

She giggled hysterically at herself, covering her mouth with both hands. She forced herself to start walking downstairs so she wouldn't alert Ron to the fact that she had gotten stuck outside his door.

As she slipped down the stairs, Hermione nervously reached up to smooth her hair and froze. Holy heavens, it was a rat's nest.

She hurried down the stairs and quickly shut herself in the third floor lavatory. She gasped in horror at her image in the mirror. She looked like a complete slag. Everyone was going to know instantly upon seeing her that she and Ron had been Practicing.

Her already uncontrollable hair was twice as big as usual, sticking up everywhere from having Ron's fingers running through it roughly…Hermione tried to calm it down with her fingers and was horrified to find it one big knot…but at least hair could be combed. She had no idea what she was going to do about her lips which had swollen to twice the size of normal lips. Lightly placing her fingertips on them, she found they were tender to the touch as well.

Staring at the physical evidence of her indiscretion, Hermione felt herself tremble. This seduction thing was a whole lot more than she had anticipated. She closed her eyes remembering the intoxicating feel of his kisses. Oh, yeah, a _whole_ lot more. Heavens, she had been so naive…should she back out now? That would ruin everything…just when things were working out so well. Ron had fallen in with her plan so, well, so enthusiastically.

She giggled again and thought that she really had gone as mental as Ron had been accusing her of being all these years.

It was awfully pleasant though, but intense…really, really intense. It gave her this feeling of losing control. It was terrifying, but the strange part was how amazing the lose of control felt, knowing that Ron was losing control too, that it was just the two of them in a whirlwind. He was all that stood between her and the abyss.

Hermione gathered cold water in her hands and held it to her lips, willing the swelling to subside, then drank it greedily, surprised at how parched she was. She cursed her inability to use magic. She knew a very nice anti-swelling charm.

With wet hands she painstakingly and painfully combed through the tangles. It took forever and left her hair frizzier and larger than it had ever been. Using liberal amounts of water she tried to slick it down.

Great, now she looked like drowned cat!

Frustrated, Hermione pulled her hair back and tied it in a knot at the top of her head. Immediately pieces started to fall out. She was a mess. She really just hated her hair. She had never cared too much about her appearance until now….at least this wasn't one of those mirrors that talked back.

Well, there was nothing more she could do. She couldn't hide up there forever…they'd already left Harry for…

Oh god… how long had it been…he must be furious at them… and he should be…Hermione had been so awfully selfish.

She hurried out the door and down the stairs. Hermione was heading for the foyer when she heard voices coming from the drawing room…and she couldn't believe what she saw there. Well, she needn't have worried about Harry being left alone.

The room was filled with people...almost everyone was there save Ron and Dumbledore. Harry sat on the floor leaning against Adrianna's knees and Ginny sat next to her...her head on his cousin's shoulder…traitor! What were they all doing sitting around so comfortably?

The she listened to the conversation and realized that comfortable wasn't the word for it for what was taking place among them.

Remus was talking with a steady serious voice and everyone was listening intently…oh, god he was talking about Sirius…telling a story from their boyhood.

Hermione suddenly felt weak and cold. She looked around the room again and this time she noticed Tonks and Mrs. Weasley openly weeping. Harry's face was wet but serene. Ginny kept turning her face and wiping her cheeks on Adrianna's shoulder, as if hiding the evidence of her grief.

Heavens, they were having an impromptu memorial service.

She listened awhile longer. It wasn't until she felt the wetness on her own cheeks that she realized she was crying too. Harry looked up and met her eyes. He gave her a warm smile and motioned her into the room. She attempted to smile back at him, while reluctantly stepping into the room. Finding the nearest wall space, she let herself slide to the floor.

Remus finished his story and Tonks started with one of her own.

Hermione knew the moment that Ron came to the doorway. Her eyes were instantly drawn to his confused face. He searched the room and their eyes met. She held out her hand to him and he appreciatively sat next to her.

"What's…" he whispered.

"Shhh, just listen."

They sat like that for hours, listening to story after story and Hermione found herself wiping her eyes on Ron's shoulder.

Harry was woken from his nap by a knock on the door. He stretched and pulled himself out of bed, stumbling over the door. "I hear you, I hear you," he muttered. He opened the door a crack and peaked through, seeing George he blinked blearily at him.

"Oi, Great Adventurer, Mum requests the presence of you and ickle Ronnikins at dinner…. and get a bleedin' move on, we're famished."

Harry rubbed his eyes. "Dinner? What time is it?"

George laughed. "Almost seven….you slept the day away….must still be on American time, or is it Japanese…or Moroccan…"

"I think Morocco is in the same time zone…"

"Whatever, just get your arses in gear, or we'll come in and set your them on fire, literally."

Harry rolled his eyes and closed the door on him. Joking or not, George had been right, the jet lag had been a killer. He painstakingly lit several candles, burning his fingers in the process…cursing the underage magic laws all the while. He wished they could at least have electricity…

He went over to Ron's bed, where he lay undisturbed by his brother's pounding. At least some things never changed. "Hey, Ron, wake up, mate."

Ron only moaned in response. Harry frowned and walked over to him. His friend was sweating and moving restlessly. Harry thought he heard him mutter "Hermione."

His eyes widened. Holy Shite. "Ron, mate, wake up." Then he tried the magic word, "Dinner!"

Nothing, which was concerning.

Ron just shook his heed. "No, no, no, no…..Hermione."

Whatever Hermione was doing to him it sure was intense. Harry chuckled. It seemed he'd better get ok with Ron and Hermione right quick, because they sure weren't waiting on him.

Harry went over and shook him. "Ron, Wake up!" He shook harder.

Ron jerked and blinked, breathing heavy. He looked confused for a moment. "Harry?" He also looked disappointed.

"Hoping for someone else?" Harry asked with a smirk.

"Hmm?" Ron muttered, looking really out of it.

"You all right, mate?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Mmmhmm." His friend rubbed his face as he sat up.

Probably just looove sick, Harry thought. "You were calling for Hermione, you know."

Ron just frowned wearily, he didn't blush as Harry had expected. "Yeah, well. Get used to it."

"Get used to it, huh?" Harry chuckled. Was he finally going to get a confession? Oh, god, was he finally going to get a confession?

"Yeah, since I have nightmares about her every night…used to be naps were ok, but I guess not."

"Nightmares? What is she doing, chasing you around with a homework planner?" Harry teased.

Ron's eyes snapped up, his expression stony. "No," he replied heatedly. "She's dying. Ever damn night she dies."

Harry felt his insides clench painfully, he took in sharp breath. "Shite, Ron…sorry…I…

"Don't worry about it," Ron brushed him off, refusing to meet his eyes.

Harry felt that familiar gut wrenching remorse. He had never been there to help his friends deal with the aftermath of The Department of Mysteries, even before he had run away with Adrianna. He searched for something to say. In the end he fumbled… "What can I do…?"

"Do…"

"You know, to help with the nightmares?" It was a silly thing to ask. As someone plagued by nightmares, he knew they couldn't be helped.

Ron was shaking his head. "Nothing helps. I just need…" He trailed off, closing his eyes.

Hermione. Harry finished Ron's sentence for him mentally. There was the Harry's gut twisted with jealousy and loss…Ron didn't need him….he needed Hermione. Was that Harry's fault for not being available or was it just an inevitable part of growing up? A bloke's girl was just more important than his best mate….and Hermione was both to Ron.

How could Harry compete with that?

"Is that why you were at Hermione's the night of the attack?"

Ron looked at him with a bewildered expression and Harry realized that he was trying to keep up with the leap in the conversation. Harry had gotten used to his thoughts being heard over the last few months.

But Ron did catch up. "Yeah, that's why I went."

"So, it wasn't for a snog fest then?" Harry joked, hoping to get the conversation back on familiar grounds.

But when Ron blushed tomato red Harry felt a naive sense of astonishment. "_Was_ there a snog fest?"

Ron choked before he finally answered. "Well, I wouldn't call it a fest exactly…" he confessed carefully.

Harry fell into a seated position on his own bed, facing Ron. He was ashamed to say he sounded like a six year old girl when he said, "You kissed her?" His voice was filled with a girly awe.

"Not exactly…she…Doesn't matter. Yesterday I kissed her…this morning rather." Ron looked anxious and eager, like he'd needed a good confession for a long time.

Harry didn't know how he felt about being the confidant. Not on this particular subject, anyway. "Wow, that's….wow…You're together, then?"

He didn't think Ron could blush any redder, but he did. "No…we're…um… we're just practicing…."

What? Harry was stunned …and outraged. Hermione was his best mate, as well. He couldn't just let someone take advantage of her, even if it was Ron. "What!"

"It was her idea, mate, I swear…the relationship thing never came up. She probably realizes I'm not good enough for her…"

Harry stared at him in alarm. "Ron, you're not…."

"We both know I'm not…just… I don't want to talk about that. Promise, you won't say anything, 'specially to Hermione?" Ron looked sad and anxious.

Harry took pity on Ron… and himself…this was _way_ out of Harry's expertise. "Um...of, course, mate…so, dinner's ready."

Ron looked relieved. "Oh, good then, brilliant!"

The boys scrambled out of bed and out of the room. Harry noticed his cousin's open door across the hall and walked over. Standing in the doorway he found her staring distractedly into the mirror of her armoire. He noticed she hadn't wasted any time transfiguring the room the way she liked.

"Hey, you ready for dinner?" he asked her.

She looked over at him and gave him a preoccupied smile. "You go along. I'll be down soon." She was twirling a ring on her finger.

Harry frowned. She seemed distressed or something. He noticed she had washed and changed. She was wearing a skirt now…it seemed a bit odd. "All right?"

"Mmmhmm." She pulled off the ring and dropped it in the drawer. She picked up her hair brush and started brushing her long hair. "Fine."

Ron came up behind. "Oi, we going?" he asked.

Harry nodded, still frowning at Adrianna, who was now brushing her hair in slow motion. "Did they say something to you in the dinning room?" Maybe she just didn't want to face Mrs. Weasley again, Harry thought.

She shook her head. "I'm fine, honest. I'll be there in a minute." She gave him a slightly more convincing smile.

Harry nodded reluctantly and headed down the hall with Ron. Once they were out of hearing distance his friend asked, "Is Adrianna always so…"

Distracted? Out of it? Odd?

"No, no she's not.

Ginny was feeling well rested and strangely content after the events of this morning and a nice long nap. She'd be lying to herself if she said a significant part of her newfound calm didn't have anything to do with Harry being safe and sound under the same roof as her.

But she wasn't going to dwell on that.

Besides, her good mood gave her the perfect opportunity to find full amusement in Hermione, who was anxiously arranging and rearranging the table settings, all the while taking great care to avoid Mrs. Weasley's gaze.

The reason was obvious to anyone who'd ever had a particularly vigorous snogging session. Ginny suppressed a giggle.

She caught Hermione's arm as she flurried past her and pulled the flustered girl into the seat next to her. She handed Hermione a glass of ice water. "Here," she whispered without trying to hide her glee. "Suck on some ice. It will help with the swelling."

Hermione gasped and her hand flew to her bee-stung lips. This time Ginny couldn't hold back her laugh. "Find something to do besides row, have you?" she asked cheekily.

"Shhh!" Hermione gestured madly. "Keep your voice down…your mum."

Ginny's eye's wandered over to where her mother was clanging unnecessarily around the kitchen. She slammed a bowl that Dobby had enchanted to self-stir onto the table, causing the contents to slosh over the side. "You're under a lucky star tonight. Mum's too busy hating Adrianna to notice your indiscretions."

"You think so?" Hermione asked hopefully, sipping water and sucking ice into her mouth.

"Oh, yeah," Ginny said with a grin. "I'd focus my full worry on the twins."

Hermione's eyes flew to the door where Fred and George were wandering in, joking amongst themselves. She looked down quickly, sucking her lips into her mouth.

Ginny laughed uproariously, earning questioning looks from the twins as they sat at the end of the table.

Oh, what to do? Continue to torture Hermione and later her brother…allowing the twins to join in the fun…? Or hold off and keep the knowledge to herself…?

Both had such possibilities.

_Crack._

Ginny was distracted by her favorite older brother Apparating into the kitchen. Well, she had a lot of favorites… except Percy that is. "Charlie!" she called getting up and hugging him happily. "What are you doing here?"

But Charlie was tense and distracted, he was yelling even as he hugged her back. "Mum, what the hell is going on here?"

"Language dear," Molly chastised, smiling, as she wiped her hands on her apron and approached him.

Charlie ignored her words. "I return from assignment to a pile of owls…Ron's kidnapped…Ginny's Stupefied…found Ron…Harry's kidnapped…Death Eaters at The Burrow…had to move to headquarters…"

Molly took his head in her hands and kissed his check, ignoring the raving as if he weren't even talking.

"What is…oh, well, here are Ron and Harry…looking well…I must say…not at all kidnapped." He glared at his mother.

"Well, the kidnapper returned him this morning," she replied lightly.

"I was not kidnapped!" Harry defended heatedly. "I chose to go with her for the summer…"

"Sit down dear...it's all right," Molly soothed.

"Go with who, Harry?" Charlie asked shaking his head.

"Go with me…" Adrianna appeared in the doorway. "Hello, Charlie. Been a while."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

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Disclaimer: The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

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**Chapter Sixteen

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Ginny watched her brother's face take on a stricken look as he turned slowly in the direction of the doorway. "Adrianna?" He seemed oddly breathless. Charlie didn't _do_ breathless.

Adrianna smiled softly at him. She was at her most poised. She wore her arrogance around her, but this time Ginny thought it almost looked like a shield. Nonetheless she thought she saw unease lurking beneath the certainty.

"What…" Charlie reached her with two long strides, grabbing her, causing her to call out in surprise, and turning her around in the air.

Ginny didn't think she could be more astonished, unless, of course she was her mother, who looked as if she might faint. Ginny turned to whisper to Harry, "Did you know they knew each other?"

"No," he replied heatedly, glowering at them.

"Well, they certainly seem to _know_ each other," Fred said cheekily. He received a smack from his father, who was looking warily between his elder son and his wife.

There was a general air of stillness in the room as the Weasley family and their surrogate children gaped at the pair. Even Remus, the only other Order member residing in the house and the last to arrive at dinner, stopped quietly in the doorway…somehow reverent to the family's stunned silence.

"Charlie, stop! Let me down!" Adrianna was saying firmly, but there was a touch of laughter and something else Ginny couldn't name in her voice.

Ginny marveled at the strangeness of the scene. Charlie was the earthiest of the Weasley brothers. He had sun burnt skin that had turned leathery, he had calluses and scars and was the broadest and most thickly muscled, though far from the most handsome. That distinction went to Bill, with his classic good looks. And although she'd never admit it aloud, Ron was developing potential as well.

Even standing there, trapped against Charlie, lifted slightly off the ground, Adrianna had never looked more polished or poised. For some reason, that fact made Ginny nervous for her brother.

"It's been…." he said to her.

"Three years," she said seriously, steadying herself against him, neither pulling away nor embracing him.

"Two years, ten months, and thirteen days," he replied as their eyes met. There was a pregnant pause. They seemed unaware of their audience. "You've been out of Japan for a year."

"Yes." She swallowed.

"You didn't come back."

"Did you expect me to?" she asked, her expression challenging.

"After seeing you nearly every day for four years…" Charlie looked anxious...or…it seemed bizarre to Ginny. Anxious wasn't a word she'd ever attributed to this brother. He'd always seemed cheerful, laid back, together, but then, Ginny saw her two eldest brothers through a little girl's eyes. She hadn't actually lived with Charlie since she was five.

He sighed and smiled, showing his dimples and seeming more like himself. "You're here now," he stated with satisfaction.

She shook her head sadly and tried again to pull away. His arms were huge against her and it looked like she couldn't possibly have escaped. Unless of course, she was some ultra powerful witch, Ginny thought ironically. What the hell was going on here?

"I'm here for my cousin. Haven't you been paying attention?" She seemed frustrated and a little mean.

Charlie looked crestfallen and confused. Then he sucked in his breath with a hiss. "Potter….I never made the connection…"

"Well, it's not the most unusual name in the world and it's not like I used it very often. Please let me go," she entreated softly. She almost looked like she was getting flustered, _almost_.

"But I knew…"

"Charlie! If you don't let me go your mother is going to flay me alive and I assure you she is just waiting for an excuse!"

Half the room looked across the room to Mrs. Weasley, who indeed looked murderous. Charlie's eyes, however, did not move from Adrianna's. "Don't be ridiculous," he said with a soft chuckle. "My mum wouldn't…"

"You don't know what's going on," she snapped.

"Anna…" he whispered.

Her face turned red. "_Avarska_," she snapped and his arms fell away from her in a flash of blue light. She jumped back from him as if burned.

There was a growl from the far side of the room. Mr. Weasley walked quickly over to calm his wife.

"Niciodată reputaţie mă ăla, Charlie, niciodată iarăşi!" Adrianna yelled, leaving everyone stunned.

But Charlie argued back in the same strange Slovak sounding tongue and Ginny couldn't keep up with the strange speech. She scanned the room. No one seemed to understand what was being said. She looked to Hermione, "Do you know what language…"

Hermione shook her head, bemused, "No clue, almost sounds Russian, but I don't think it is…" she glanced anxiously at Harry and Ginny followed her eyes. His fists were clenched and he had a hurt look on his face.

Then she over heard Fred chuckle to George, "Looks like old Charlie finally found a bird to make his blood boil."

"Yeah and Mum's too…I can see it now, 'Mum, I'd like you to meet your new daughter…. Ow!" George winced as Ron punched him in the side.

"Do you two idiots ever know when to shut up?" Ron muttered.

"Woohoo. Look who has the stones in the family now…" Fred drawled, ready for battle.

"Do shut up," Hermione snapped.

George looked at Fred conspiratorially, "Coming to rescue of the boyfriend. I see many happy years of our little Hermione rescuing…."

"Bloody hell! Shut your mouth!" Ginny hissed, causing everyone to quiet in shock, as she stepped closer to Harry, touching his arm and whispering, "All right, Harry?" She barely perceived his head shake.

Charlie and Adrianna had calmed considerably and were now talking intently in the same rapid language. Ginny even detected a few short laughs and at one point she swore Adrianna said "Charlie" with deep affection.

From the other side of the room Mrs. Weasley finally couldn't take it anymore. "Enough! Charles Weasley, you will tell me the meaning of this, immediately!" she demanded, at full volume. "In English!"

Charlie paused, looking at Adrianna, as if asking her what to say. The look he received in return left no question that he was on his own.

"Meaning of what, Mum?" he asked sweetly.

Please, Ginny thought, didn't the stupid arse know that only Ron got away with playing dumb with Mum?

The tense standstill between mother and son went on for what seemed like forever, before Adrianna finally sighed loudly and said, "Charlie and I go way back... we're good friends…. We just haven't seen each other in a while. That's it."

"That's it?" Molly barked, incredulously, eyes trained on her second eldest son.

Charlie shrugged and gave her a light and charming smile. "That's it." Ginny rolled her eyes; this was the Charlie she knew and loved.

"Really? And where exactly were you when you went way back with this person none of us has ever heard a thing about?" his mother demanded.

"Romania," he answered simply, his eyes still on Adrianna's.

Adrianna broke eye contact and sat down at the table, indicating that she was done with the conversation.

Harry immediately sat next to her and whispered furiously, "What is going on?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but Charlie quickly came and took the seat to her left whispering a warning, "'Drana."

She shook her head angrily and looked around her, glancing over at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arguing in the corner. Ginny also noticed that Remus had pulled the twins aside for a conversation that they were trying to escape from to join in the "Fun."

"Charlie…" Adrianna was shaking her head and Ginny quickly sat across from them, leaning closer. Hermione sat next to her and Ron stood at the end of the table between Hermione and Charlie.

''Drana, you can't…tu trec Şipovesti." Great, more gobbledy-gook! Ginny rolled her eyes at the rapid fire foreign language.

She looked at Harry, who was frustrated and hurt. Poor thing…he didn't want to share and there was nothing like a foreign language to make you feel like an outsider. Ginny was used to being shut out, but nothing this obvious had to be used.

Harry finally broke in whispering angrily. "Weren't you working as an international MIA Auror three years ago?"

The arguing stopped as Adrianna angrily smirked, "That's why, Charlie, that's why… All right, you four, lean in close I'm making this fast…"

"'Drana! If you tell them I'll…."

"No, you won't. I'm taking care of this," she turned to them and they leaned in desperately, all knowing that this chance was very fleeting. "I worked as an international Auror with a group based out of Romania for four years…..Charlie worked with us…"

"Shite! Adrianna!" Charlie shook his head.

"He doesn't want your mother to know exactly how dangerous his work was".

"More dangerous than dragons?" Ginny asked incredulously. She had always found her brother to be the bravest of men, it seemed absurd that his life could be even more perilous.

Adrianna scoffed at the question. "Yeah, a bit and he did work with dragons… just other things as well. Very, very top secret things that none of you should know about. So you will _not_ breathe a word of this. Is that clear?"

They nodded rapidly. Adrianna leaned back as if they had been discussing afternoon tea and sipped her water calmly. The rest took her cue… only Charlie appeared angry and continued glaring at her, that which she ignored with finesse.

Dobby announced dinner and the plates appeared in front of them. The others took their seats and Ron sat next to Ginny.

Ginny looked over at Charlie who gave her an innocent smile. Innocent her arse. What the hell had he been doing all those years if not… playing with his dragons? Ginny had a horrible sinking feeling, realizing Charlie who she thought she knew so well...she knew almost nothing about. She had never even been to Romania, the place he had spent the last ten years.

Once everyone was eating Harry casually asked Adrianna, "You never told me you knew Charlie?" Well, he tried for casual. He failed miserably.

"Harry," she said, frustrated. "I know a lot of people and most of that time in my life I'm not supposed to talk about."

"Seriously, Harry," Charlie said in a barely audible whisper. "These aren't just our secrets."

Harry didn't look at all convinced as he picked at his food. Adrianna shook her head again. "If it was important I would have mentioned it. It wasn't. End of conversation."

The rest of dinner was tense, although no one mentioned Romania again.

Ginny glanced over to her right to see what Hermione thought of the whole thing, but the older girl was looking down at the table, playing with her ice. Ginny just caught a quick glance she shared with Ron before she looked down again, blushing.

Bloody hell. Ginny had forgotten all about them.

It occurred to her, as she finished her broiled chicken, exactly how lucky Hermione and Ron had been over the last few days. Ron disappeared in the middle of the night scaring them all to death. The two of them had been found in compromising positions, not once but twice, having spent the night together. Then they sneak off during a crisis to have serious snog fest….and they were getting off completely unscathed.

Somehow, each time something had happened to completely take attention away from them. They had completely slipped in under the sneakoscope.

It really wasn't fair. Ginny was going to have to do something about it…right after she found out Charlie's secret.

* * *

Harry lay awake in his narrow, single bed contemplating why he was awake. Maybe he just wasn't used to beds like this anymore? Maybe it reminded him of the Dursleys…he should have Adrianna transfigure it in the morning. Maybe he had too much sleep this afternoon and now his sleep cycle was all messed up. 

Or maybe he was just a tiny bit apprehensive about what his cousin was _not_ telling him about Charlie Weasley. The weight of the secret hung over him…he hated secrets. There was always something that someone wasn't telling him.

And it really irritated him off that this time it was Adrianna.

He liked to think that she told him everything, even though he knew that was absurd. As an Empath she knew more secrets than any one person has the right to know, but this was different…this was _her_ secret. There was something personal that she wasn't telling him.

Though, maybe it was the personal nature of it that was really bothering him, he thought with shame. Maybe he just couldn't stand her having a relationship that he wasn't a part of.

For three and a half months Harry had the privilege of Adrianna's undivided attention, something that he had never had from anyone before. And he had liked it. It made him feel special. It made him feel wanted. And he wasn't ready to give it up. With a touch of self-reproach, he realized that his friends' suspicions of her had only helped his cause by isolating her. He was her only ally.

And he liked it.

Harry wondered when he had become so selfish.

So, now Charlie comes along and Adrianna had an ally that has nothing to do with Harry. An ally that knows her so much better than he did… and he hated it.

"No!" An agonizing scream came from the next bed. "Hermione, please."

Harry put the pillow over his head, blocking out an obvious reminder of another relationship he wasn't a part of, another place he was excluded.

Ron's cries became more agonized. "Don't be dead! Don't be dead!" The pillow wasn't working and Harry's guilt was so intense he was starting to choke.

All he ever did was feel sorry for himself. He never let himself think about how the others were affected by the traumas in their life. The traumas that he was in some way responsible for…great, now all the self blame that he worked so hard to get rid of was back.

It wasn't his fault, he reminded himself. They chose to come to the Department of Mysteries…Hermione _chose _to come…

And she didn't die…she didn't die.

"No, Hermione, please. Come back to me!"

The last scream brought tears to Harry's eyes and mobilized him enough to sit up and look at Ron. He was worse off than this afternoon, drenched in sweat, thrashing.

Should he try to wake him?

Ron began to sob in his sleep and Harry knew he couldn't watch him any longer. He approached his friend and called his name. The first time it was a whisper, then he spoke with increasing volume, but Ron didn't seem to hear him. He was curled in a ball whimpering Hermione's name.

Ron didn't need Harry; he'd said so this afternoon. He needed Hermione. She was the only one that could make the nightmares stop, he'd said.

Harry stood there watching his best friend, conflicted, ashamed, because even with the blatant evidence of his friend's pain…he didn't want to share. Ron was his friend first. Ron and Hermione were only friends because of _him_. He was the glue.

He didn't want to be the third wheel. He wanted to be the _center_ of their little trio.

Harry had thought he had gotten over these feelings, but he reckoned not. There was something about the dead of night that brought out the rawest parts of a person.

He turned from Ron and closed his eyes. If he was going to do this, he needed to do it before he talked himself out of it.

Methodically, he opened the door and walked into the hall. He concentrated on each step he took, not letting the urge to turn around win. Down the steps…one…two….three….down the hallways. Don't stop…don't knock or he'd never go in. He opened the door.

Don't pause! Just do it!

He went over to Hermione's bed. "Hermione, wake up," he whispered. "Ron needs you."

It could have been his imagination, but he thought it was Ron's name that made her stir and sit up blearily, anxiously, asking, "What's wrong? What happened?"

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to answer. "Ron's calling for you…uh…I think he needs you."

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked in a frightened voice.

He told himself this was not an acceptable reason to get teary. He was just not that pathetic. He could bloody well help out a friend without becoming a great big poof.

"He's having a nightmare…he's not responding to me when I call him…"

She nodded, quickly getting out of bed and walking out the door. Harry followed her at a much slower pace. As he cleared the staircase he saw Hermione rush into their room…and across the hall he saw his cousin's door open.

And he watched Charlie step out before Adrianna.

Harry's stomach clenched. He felt nauseous.

Charlie said good night and lightly, hesitantly, gave her a kiss on the cheek. She tried to smile, but her gaze was averted, her arms tightly crossed. Only when Charlie had moved down to the end of the long hallway and into his own room did Adrianna turn and make eye-contact with Harry, finally giving him the impetuous to continue up the stairs.

Harry thought she should look guilty…because of what he had just seen, but she didn't. She just looked resolved and a little sad.

Adrianna gave Harry a soft smile and gestured him over. He closed his eyes when she cupped his cheek in her hand. "I'm very proud of you, for what you did for Ron and Hermione."

He nodded, eyes still tightly shut.

"You aren't going to lose them, you know."

"I know."

"You're not going to lose me."

"I know, but…" He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew he was sick and tired of sharing and getting short changed…and what the hell was going on with her and Charlie?

"Nothing…nothing's going…we're just friends."

Bedroom-in-the-middle-of-the-night friends?

"Harry, look at me." He reluctantly opened his eyes and forced them to hers. "You need to trust me on this. There are things about my past and about Charlie's past that I just can't tell you."

'_Why not_', he screamed in his mind.

"Harry, I…all I can promise is to tell you what's happening now…"

"So what were you doing in your room with him in the middle of the night?"

She sighed. "Talking…we…we left things badly three years ago…we needed to talk if we were going to be around each other again. That's all."

Badly? How badly?

She gave him a look that said pretty damn bad, but didn't answer his silent question. She looked so sad.

He had to trust her. He nodded.

"Thank you." She embraced him and he felt marginally better than before. "Get some sleep…it will look better in the morning." He nodded as she pulled away and slipped into her room, closing the door.

Harry was feeling somewhat stronger and a whole lot more ashamed of his selfish feelings when he went back into his room, which was good, because when he returned to his room, he found Ron and Hermione locked in an embrace. On Ron's _bed. _

It was hardly torrid. They were sitting up and Ron had his head buried in Hermione's hair. She was stroking his head and whispering. "I'm fine, see….I know you'll always get to me…I know."

It broke Harry's heart to see them.

Something inside him shifted and he knew what was going on with them was much more important than his petty insecurities. "You should sleep here tonight, Hermione," he found himself saying.

Ron pulled away and looked at him with a stunned expression. "What?"

Hermione swallowed, one hand still on Ron's back. "Harry, you don't…."

"No, it's ok. You both need…" _each other…_ "to be able to sleep…a lot's happened and Ron's not going to be able to sleep without you…" At least Ron had the grace to blush. "I'm fine with it, really." Yeah, right. "It's not as if…I mean being as I'm here to chaperone, you wouldn't…would you?"

"No!" they both rushed to deny together. Hermione continued, blushing profusely, "No...Harry I… we would never…"

Ron shot her an incredulous look that made Harry laugh and feel a good deal better.

Harry smile was genuine when he said, "So, it's settled then. I'll see you both in the morning." He got into bed and purposefully turned away from them. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. There were a few minutes of whispered conversation, then there was rustling, then there was quiet.

When Harry was sure they had settled down, he turned to look at them. It seemed he was too curious for his own good, after all. to know what was good for him. They were both asleep on their sides facing him. As far as Harry could tell the only place they were touching was where Ron's arm was loosely flung over her waist.

It wasn't so bad. Harry could deal with this. After all, how far could they leave him behind, if they were in the same room?

* * *

Ron awoke from a thoroughly pleasant dream to the equally pleasant sensation of Hermione Granger pressed along the length of his body. He hummed in groggy pleasure and pulled her closer. 

"Ron, you have to let go!" He barely heard her harsh whisper, since she was wriggling against him and _that_ felt even better. "Ron, let go, I have to get back to my room."

"No, you don't," he drawled sleepily, peering at her through half open eyes. She had managed to sit up and her hair was everywhere. He loved her hair. He reached up and pulled her back down, this time facing him. He held her tightly to him, reveling in the hazy, warm sensations he was feeling.

She sighed, "Ron, wake up…if you were fully awake…"

"Mmmm awake," he reasoned. "No reason to get up. Harry doesn't care." He leaned up and peered over her to where Harry was sprawled out on his bed fast asleep. "See, he's still asleep. We can have a bit of a lie in."

He gave her his best pouty-puppy face and smiled lazily as he felt her melt against him.

"Ron, it's not Harry I'm worried about. Your Mum's bound to be up…if she finds us…we won't be able to do this again."

His eyes snapped open and he loosened his grip. Hermione chuckled as she climbed out of bed. She looked amazing in the first light of morning. He loved those soft blue pajamas.

Ron was out of bed in a second, grabbing her hand as it touched the door knob. He spun her around so her back was against the door and leaned his forearm on the door above her head. Bending toward her so their faces were only a fraction apart he found that she was breathing so quickly he could feel it coming in soft pants on his lips. Mmmm.

"Ron, what are you doing?" she whispered.

What was he doing? The thinking part of his brain didn't seem to have woken up yet…he was moving on pure impulse. "Um…I didn't get to say good morning."

She gave short puff of a laugh. "Good morning, then." She looked up at him expectantly. "Say good morning, Ron…I'm going to go…."

He wanted to kiss her. He leaned closer. Was he allowed to do that now? "I was thinking, Hermione" he could almost feel her lips as they talked, "seeing as I'm such a slow learner…I think we need to start Practicing right away."

He watched her eyelids flutter closed and he took this as permission to press his lips to hers. He was just beginning to enjoy the softness and the pressure when she pushed him away.

Breathing heavily she said, "Ron, we can't. Not now."

He tried the pout again.

The corners of her mouth twitched, "Later."

"Promise?"

"Promise." He beamed at her and she smiled shyly back. Before she could stop him, he pressed another hard, quick kiss to her lips, before pulling back and opening the door for her.

He smiled after her in what he was sure was a besotted way as she skirted under his arm and out the door.

Ron threw himself back down on the bed, intending on having his lie in, before realizing he was now wide awake. His heart was beating quickly….later, she'd said.

He pulled himself out of bed and made his way to the loo. He considered a nice long shower, but after he relieved himself and his morning condition had been taken care of, the rumbling in his belly seemed more urgent.

Ron made his way to the kitchen humming happily. He was going to Practice today. What a bloody brilliant day!

He could hear the yelling from the foyer.

"Molly, she's Julian's daughter for Heaven's sake…"

"I don't care if she's Dumbledore's daughter, we don't know her from Merlin and I don't trust her… and you're an idiot if you do!"

"Molly!" Mr. Weasley roared.

Charlie's voice joined the argument. "To be fair, Mum, I know her rather well and there's nothing not to trust…Oh hello, Ron."

Ron entered the kitchen and sat down across from his brother, smiling. "Hello." He ignored his parents fighting as if it were commonplace, which it was probably because it _was. _

"Morning, dear, you're up early." Mrs. Weasley kissed his crown and placed a plate of steaming hot breakfast in front of him. "And how well do you know this girl I've never heard about, hmmm? I insist you tell me exactly what your relationship to this girl is!"

"I told you," Charlie said, all innocence. "We're friends."

"From Romania?" Molly glared at him, but he didn't flinch.

"That's right."

"And what was she doing in Romania?"

"Working for the American Ministry." He ate his breakfast calmly.

"And you were just friends."

"Yep."

"Looked more than friendly to me." It was an accusation.

"She's a really good friend. I haven't seen her in awhile."

Ron's mother harrumphed, as angry as he had ever seen her. She turned to her husband. "And you believe this nonsense?"

"I believe we need to take Adrianna at face value. She's Julian's daughter, Harry's cousin, and Charlie's friend. What more should we need?"

"I'll tell you what I need. I need the lot of you to start talking sense…clearly she has bewitched you all with her Empath powers."

"Doesn't work like that, Mum," Charlie told her.

"And now I suppose you know all about Empathy."

Ron thought he heard him mumble, "More than you."

Of course, their mother heard. "Charlie Weasley you had better…"

"What do you think, Ron?" Charlie deflected. "Harry's your best mate."

Ron only took a second to glare at Charlie before he shrugged, his mouth full of food, "Dunno."

"It's all right dear, you just keep eating. Charles, you leave your brother out of this, I have had enough of your nonsense…"

Charlie had always been a bit of a peace maker in the family. Jovial, quick witted, skirted arguments deftly. He was not a fighter; he usually dealt well with their mother by cleverly complimenting her and avoiding dangerous subjects.

So that's why Ron choked when his brother and life long role model turned to their mother and said, "No, Mother I've had enough! I'm not listening to one more word against Adrianna. She's good. Either you trust me or you don't."

Molly Weasley turned bright scarlet, then ash white. She threw her dish rag on the kitchen table. "You can all get your own breakfast, then." she snapped, stomping out of the room.

It was rather an empty threat, Ron felt, as he shoved a large piece of bacon into his mouth. Besides, Dobby was doing the cooking. Shite…he was hungry.

Arthur came to sit next to Charlie and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, son. I don't know what's gotten into your mother over this." He shook his head.

"Mmmm…It's the same with Hermione..." Ron said swallowing his toast. His brother and father looked at him with bemusement. "Adrianna's a controlling, pushy, know-it –all…Mum and Hermione don't like that…"

"Who would?" his father asked.

"No… Mum and Hermione are controlling, pushy, know-it –alls…the _reining _controlling, pushy, know-it –alls…Adrianna's threatening to them."

Arthur and Charlie looked at him with wide-eyed astonishment. Ron took another bite of eggs and continued "…and they were the primary women in Harry's life…now they've been displaced.' So, they don't like her."

"Well, then," His father cleared his throat. "I think I'll just go and see if I can calm down your mother."

Once he left, Charlie narrowed his eyes at Ron. "That's quite insightful, little brother. Makes me think this whole 'Don't blame me, Mum, I do stupid things 'cause I don't know any better' thing is all an act."

Ron shrugged with wide innocent eyes. "I dunno what you're talking about."

"Kinda right convenient as well…perhaps making you get away with say…escapades to the girlfriend's house in the middle of the night…"

Ron, again, choked on his eggs. "She's not my girlfriend."

Charlie narrowed his eyes even further.

"Honest," Ron said, cheeks hot. Deciding he had better deflect quickly he asked, "So, how well do you know Adrianna?"

Charlie turned serious. He looked away from Ron for a moment and when he turned back there was a hardness Ron had never seen in him.

"How well do you know Harry and Hermione?"

* * *

_Authors Note:_

_A Note on the elder Weasley boys' age: Prior to JKR releasing Charlie and Bill's official Birthdays I had read an essay in the Harry Potter Lexicon justifying Charlie's age as twelve years older than Ron based on evidence in books. I planned this story with that in mind and honestly the story wouldn't work if I changed the ages to match JKR's. So, for the purpose of this story Charlie's age is 28 and Bill's 30. _

_For those of you who are interested the logic it goes like this: In book 3 they say Gryffindor hasn't won the Quidditch cup in eight years, not since "the days of the great Charlie Weasley". They also say that he was Captain and Harry was the youngest Quidditch player in a century. So it makes no sense that Charlie is only seven years older then Ron. Actually, what would make the most sense is if the last time Gryffindor won was when Charlie was Captain and a seventh year, then his legendary status would be valid. That would make Charlie 12 years older than Ron._

_Special thanks to kjcp and Texasmagic at CM for betaing this story_


	17. Chapter seventeen

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Disclaimer: The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

Ginny sat on her bed with her knees to her chest, waiting for Hermione to return from her little late night rendezvous with her brother, again. Was she ever going to sleep in her own bed? 

Ginny tried not to be bitter, but goddamn it, she was bitter. She wakes up in the middle of the night to find Hermione gone. Which is fine, but then she's not in the drawing room, or in the kitchen, or the third floor library, or Buckbeak's room, so then Ginny goes to wake up Ron and…

This is absolutely the last time that she is going to worry about them in the middle of the night.

She was bloody sick of it.

It wasn't finding her with Ron that bothered her...that was just…funny, really. It was finding Hermione sleeping with Ron, with Harry in the next bed, like one big happy family. The trio reunited.

Leaving her alone again.

Every time she allowed herself to believe that things would actually be different, that she was actually accepted…well, obviously, she just needed to stop trying. She had her own friends, boyfriends even. She had her own life, without her brother and Harry Potter.

Hermione quietly slipped into the room, jumping a foot when she saw Ginny staring at her, a look of utter guilt on her face.

…and Ginny was going to lead her own life just as soon as she tortured Hermione a bit for abandoning her. "Have a good night?" she asked coolly.

Like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, Hermione sputtered. This in itself was suspicious. Hermione Granger was cool and collected in a crisis, never at loss for words, and she lied like a champ.

She was nearly, but not quite, as good at lying at Ginny, but, then again, Ginny was the best.

So, something else was up…something else she was hiding…like an early morning snog, perhaps? Ginny's eyes narrowed on her victim. "So, where've you been?"

"I, um….just ran to the loo…"

"Really, 'cause I thought that was you curled up like a little baby kitten in my brother's bed last night." Hermione looked like she was going to hyperventilate. Ginny went in for the kill. "So, when exactly did you and Ron become a couple?"

Hermione sighed, sitting on the edge of her own bed, across from Ginny. "We're not, honest."

Ginny gave a disbelieving snort. She couldn't believe this. How gullible did Hermione think she was? Disappointment turned Ginny's stomach sour. She had really thought that she and Hermione had had more of a friendship than this.

"Look, Hermione, you've been found sleeping with Ron three out of the last four nights and the fourth night, no one slept. You 'secretly' hold hands behind your back, you disappear together and yesterday your lips were blown up, like you used an engorgement charm, from what was obviously a vigorous snogging session. So, if our friendship means anything to you…."

"Ginny, please," Hermione pleaded. "All those things are true, but…"

Ginny gave her a scathing look.

Hermione swallowed and came to sit next to Ginny. "Promise me you won't say anything to anyone…not Harry…no one…"

She was using the magic words…not fair. Ginny nodded.

"…and you won't judge?"

Ginny's eyes widened….exactly what was going on between those two? "Yes, ok. Just tell me."

Hermione took a deep breath. "So, we have…um, you know, kissed a couple times…but we're not together. We're just…practicing." She grimaced, waiting for a response.

"Practicing…" Ginny all but screeched. "Practicing what?"

"Um…kissing and stuff."

Astonishment gave way to confusion which gave way to rage. "Are you telling me that my no good brother is snogging you, but won't date you?"

"No!" Hermione put her hands up. "Well, I dunno…I…it was my idea."

Ginny almost fell out of the bed.

"No, listen. I…Ron's not ready to be in a real relationship, per se. It's obvious…If I were to push him, he'd just run."

Ginny nodded. Wherever this was going, it had to be good.

In a rush Hermione spilled out, "So I figured if I offered to practice and we started, you know, snogging on a regular basis...with that and our friendship…he couldn't help but….fall in love with me?" she finished with a whimper.

Ginny blinked several times. "Are you joking?" It was obvious that she wasn't joking. The younger girl rubbed her forehead. She was developing a headache. "Let me get this straight. You want to be in a relationship with my brother, but not call it a relationship, because that might scare him?"

"Um….sorta."

"And you figure if you can keep it up, then he'll realize he—"

"Can't live without me."

"—and want a real relationship?"

"Yeah, that's the gist."

Ginny stared at her friend, trying to take it all in. "Well that's actually…quite brilliant, really. You sure have some stones. This could either work out fantastically…"

"…or be an utter disaster." Hermione worried her lip anxiously…looking for reassurance. Ginny actually felt sorry for her.

"Well, then," Ginny said brightly, feeling loads better for herself, at least. "Let's go get breakfast and see how this plan of yours goes."

"Um…shouldn't we shower first?"

"And lose that sexy bed rumpled look? Not on your life."

* * *

When Hermione and Ginny arrived at the kitchen, Ron and Harry were already eating and apparently it wasn't Ron's first helping.

This was not good.

"Ginny and Hermione down to breakfast after the blokes. The world's gone all wonky, hasn't it George?" Fred grinned broadly from the table and Hermione willed herself not to blush. Why should she blush since she was only a few minutes late for breakfast?

"I do wonder Fred, now what could be making our little Hermione and Ronald act _so_ out of character?"

There was no stopping the blush this time, especially as Ginny pushed her into the kitchen chair next to Ron's, before rounding the table and sitting across from her, next to Harry.

Real subtle, Ginny. Hermione's glare told Ginny her help was _not_ appreciated.

Hermione snuck a glance at Ron and found him looking at her with a light in his eye. She smiled back, shyly…oh my.

"Cat got your tongue, Hermione?" Fred called.

"No…that was Ron," his twin countered.

Hermione spit out the pumpkin juice had just taken a sip of.

"Shut up!" Ron gritted.

"Boys! That's quite enough." Their mother approached the table and sat, slamming down utensils and mugs. Her children exchanged wary glances.

Hermione felt Ron's knee bump hers and she smiled into the eggs that Dobby had brought her. Somehow, she didn't think that it was an accident. Ok, so maybe Ginny had the right idea after all.

"Morning," Harry called to his cousin as she entered and came up next to him. She was impeccably and inappropriately, in Hermione's mind, dressed in professional robes.

"Morning," she said distractedly. "Owls here yet?"

"Here you goes, Miss," Dobby hurried over and handed her a stack of letters.

"Thanks, Dobby," she sat next to Harry and leafed through the letters as Dobby set a plate of food and a mug of coffee. She looked up and smiled absently in thanks. Still reading, she reached over and waved her hand over the coffee, muttering something softly…the coffee became soft and frothy,

She looked up to take a sip and met Charlie's eyes staring at her from across the table. Adrianna replaced her cup and looked at his mug. Frowning she said, "You hate coffee."

"Of course, he likes coffee," Molly harrumphed, cutting her bacon with extra zeal.

Charlie shrugged. "I hate tea more."

"Charlie, you know how to fix it," Adrianna told him with a touch of impatience.

He pouted. "No. It doesn't taste right when I do it."

She gave him a long suffering look and waved her hand over his mug, changing its color and consistency. She went back to reading her letters.

Charlie had an odd look on his face as he hesitantly picked up the mug and took a sip.

Hermione wondered if he thought it was poisoned. She would.

Charlie took a sip with his eyes closed. He sighed. "Do you know how much I missed you," he whispered. Adrianna didn't look up from opening her letters, but she smiled slightly.

Hermione frowned into her breakfast. She couldn't get her mind wrapped around Adrianna…and it wasn't just the constant distraction sitting next to her, either.

If Adrianna was really what she said she was then why all the mystery? And what was with this intense relationship with Charlie Weasley? How does someone have a connection to so many people when they had only entered their lives six weeks ago?

Hermione knew that she needed to be more vigilant in her evidence gathering. Especially since it seemed Ginny had stopped trying. Maybe she should join forces with Mrs. Weasley…if she…if she could just concentrate on something other than the knee that was sending shivers throughout her body.

Adrianna was smiling at the content of a letter before she handed it to Harry. "Happy Birthday, love."

Hermione watched him carefully read the parchment and saw his face go pale, tears coming to his eyes. He got up and hugged his cousin, who smiled. "We still have the paperwork to sign at ten-thirty." She opened another letter.

Ginny looked to Harry with concern. "Harry, can I…" He handed her the letter, smiling broadly. Ginny went pale and looked over to Hermione. She handed her the letter.

Hermione gasped as she read it. Ron was reading it over her shoulder and exclaimed, "Wow, that's brilliant, mate."

"Brilliant," Harry repeated.

"You had yourself appointed his legal guardian," Hermione accused, causing a collective gasp from the rest of the table.

Everyone called out at once.

"No more Dursleys…cheers, mate," Fred called.

"A free man now," George laughed.

"Congratulations, Harry," Mr. Weasley said kindly.

Charlie looked at Adrianna with a lopsided smile. "You, a parent?"

Mrs. Weasley broke into the din with a loud bang on the table. "You can't do that…it takes months to petition…"

"Actually," Adrianna said, perusing another letter. She nodded and folded it, finally looking up she said, "It took six weeks."

Molly's whole body clenched tightly. She began to clear the table loudly.

Charlie leaned over to Adrianna. "You're not even trying to win her over."

She glanced at him briefly, piling her letters and opening the last envelope. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Hermione's head was starting to pound as Adrianna looked at the last stack of parchment and handed the top one to Harry. "Oh my god!" he gasped, his hands trembling. "How?"

His cousin smiled at him warmly. "You're welcome." She leaned over and kissed his crown, going back to reading the other pieces of parchment, carefully.

Harry was still gaping at the letter. Hermione couldn't stand the mystery any longer. She fled her chair and came over to stand behind Harry. She could feel Ron come up behind her. Her jaw dropped, "Oh my god."

"Holy sh…" Ron said.

"What!" the twins demanded in unison.

Ginny snatched the letter out of Harry's hand. "Oh," she breathed.

"Ginny," Fred warned.

"I swear if you don't…" George began.

"She had Sirius pardoned."

"Give me that," Arthur ordered holding out his hand. Ginny obeyed absently.

"Kingsley said it could take years, that it might not be worth the suspicions it would raise," Molly protested, white faced.

"I called in a few favors," Adrianna responded casually. "Don't worry, they won't link it to your Order."

"Those must be some favors," Mr. Weasley said absently, looking over the document carefully.

Hermione looked over to see Charlie's reaction. He didn't seem in the least bit surprised.

"Ok, guys, lets go," Adrianna announced. "I need you all dressed and down here in less than an hour; we have ten thirty and one forty five appointments at the Ministry and I have an eleven thirty."

No one moved. Hermione looked at her incredulously. She didn't honestly think that Hermione was going to go with her….

Adrianna looked at her challengingly. "You're not going to let Harry come with me alone, now, are you?"

Hermione clenched her fists. She hated the woman most when she was right.

"You can do what you want with Harry, but my children are staying here. Where it's safe."

"I certainly hope your Ministry is safe," Adrianna said casually. "They certainly are your children…but I thought they might want to know what Sirius left them in his will…"

Ron's face lit up. "He left us something, really?"

Adrianna nodded. "It's right here."

"Mum, you have to let me go," Ron pleaded. "Dad goes to the Ministry everyday. It's gotta be safe."

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley warned.

Ron crossed his arms and set his jaw. He was ready to dig in for a fight. "Mum, I'm not missing this because you are too stubborn to get along with Adrianna."

"Son," Arthur stopped him. "Molly." He gave has wife a beseeching look. "The children can Floo to the Ministry with me." He said it softly, a suggestion.

The struggle in Mrs. Weasley was obvious…but she knew what Hermione knew….if she fought this battle and lost…control of the family slipped away….but if she gave permission…it was a small loss, but she maintained her authority.

"Fine," Molly snapped and her children looked at her with shock, not understanding the reality of the situation. "What are you waiting for; do you want to make your father late for work?"

Harry and Ron ran off in a flash. "Thanks Mum," floated in their wake. Hermione started to walk after them.

"Ginny?" Adrianna asked the girl who was poking her eggs with her fork in a violent manner. "Are you going to get ready?" Ginny froze and her eyes flew to the older woman's. "Before your Mum changes her mind, please."

Ginny smiled and ran to the stairs.

"Isn't that just the thing? Those little pip-squeaks get all the luck," Fred gripped.

"Not like honest blokes like ourselves, who work for a living," George joined scowling at the stairs.

With one last look back Hermione ascended the stairs. She vaguely heard Adrianna say as she left. "Well, if you have any time today, I have something you two might really enjoy…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, what was she up to now?

* * *

Ron Weasley was bored. History of Magic bored.

He couldn't believe he had stood up to his mother for this. He had risked sudden death and a summer of magic-less toilet scrubbing, for this. When he could have rolled over, stayed home and spent the afternoon bettering himself…by Practicing with Hermione.

But no, his greedy deprived self had to go to Sirius' Will reading. Couldn't wait till they got home to find out. It wasn't like Sirius was going to leave them Grimmauld Place. He probably left Ron the stuffed elves heads or a pile of Petrified spiders. That was just his sense of humor.

The trip had gone down hill the moment that they had stepped through the reception area. Why had none of them realized that the last time they had been here had been the Department of Mysteries? Harry had frozen in front of the statue in the lobby and all Ron could think was….Bloody hell, Harry had fought Voldemort here two months ago.

Then, of course, all he could think of was that nine floors down Hermione had almost died. Hermione was hit by the killing curse and Hermione had almost died…

He didn't think he could make it stop the litany stop, but unfortunately he was wrong.

He should have known better than to underestimate Hermione. Because their next stop was the wand registry and instead of turning over her wand Adrianna flashed some sort of Diplomatic I Can Do Whatever I Bloody Well Want Card….

Only it wouldn't have said bloody because she was a sodding American…it would have said…Bloody hell, Ron didn't care what Americans said and he didn't give a shite actually. The point was it really pissed Hermione off….really, really pissed her off.

Only she went all prissy about it and 'In the Ministry of Magic One is Respectful' kinda thing…or maybe she just got the point that she needed to leave Harry and Adrianna the hell alone, because she didn't say one word to them. Hermione even managed to control her classic 'I'm-so-mad-I-could-spit face,' and look serious and serene to the outside observer.

Instead she started this constant running commentary under her breath…to Ron. Why not Ginny? He didn't know. Maybe because Ginny seemed to be completely over her Anti-Adrianna phase, smiling and entertaining Harry and his cousin with stories of Dad's escapades in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts. Cheerfully, she asked Adrianna questions and generally looked like she was enjoying their little trip into hell. So, while the little trio had a grand old time, he held back and was attentive to Hermione's mutterings.

"Who does she think she is with her diplomatic privilege?" "You know, it would have been a sign of good will just to let them register her wand." "What is she hiding, anyway?" "I bet there is something up with her wand…it certainly doesn't look like any wand I've ever seen." "Do you think there is some really dark magical ingredient, like werewolf hair or vampire teeth…or a baby unicorn horn…I bet that's it…its really powerful…the darkest of magic."

With the last one Ron froze in the hallway and gave her such a look of disbelief and frustration…

"Fine, she's not a baby unicorn killer…but she is hiding something."

Well, at least with Hermione's incessant prattle it was virtually impossible to think about her dead or dying. Instead all he could think about was how he wanted to _shut her up._

More precisely, the exact method of how he wanted to shut her up. Like by sticking his tongue down her throat.

Cripes, he was a pervert…but he had barely gotten the chance to taste the insides of her mouth the last time… and it had been amazing…and Practicing would most certainly have to include mastering that particular skill, wouldn't it?

So, as they walked through the halls of the Ministry, Ron pretended to be intently listening to Hermione all the while scouting for private corners that he could never actually use.

Urgh…how he wanted to push her against the wall right here. It _was_ his new favorite thing in the world, but this time he wanted to pick her up, so her legs were….

"Ron," the object of his obsession hissed. "Are you listening?"

"Yes," he said as if it were obvious, though he had no idea what she had said. "You're right, it's highly suspicious."

She nodded, satisfied.

Luckily, the prattle stopped when they were lead into the Family Affairs Office of the Wizengamot and they sat down for the most boring five hours of Ron's life. All right it was forty-three minutes exactly…but why in the bleeding world would it even take that long?

Let them sign the damn papers, for god's sake. No one else wants guardianship of the boy…the Dursley's are going to be thrilled beyond belief and no one else should even care, in his opinion. It was Harry and Adrianna's business and no one else's.

Though, of course, he planned on keeping that particular opinion to himself. There were really important things on the line here…like Practice.

Ron figured out that if he leaned his head on his hand, with his elbow on the arm rest, he could stare at Hermione to his heart's content all the while looking _merely_ bored to death.

He loved the way her thoughts played out on her face. Didn't need to be an Empath to see what she was thinking. Although Ron chose to ignore the eye rolls and frowns, instead concentrating on the moving features themselves.

When she was particularly annoyed at something that had been said, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed, making her adorably kissable. But his favorite was when she got this faraway, thwarted look because her features evened out and her lower lip protruded in the sexiest way possible.

He wanted to bite it, gently of course, and suck it into his mouth and run his tongue over it…. He could do that now. He had permission. They were Practicing. 'Practicing.' It was his favorite word in the English language.

Meant he could do whatever he wanted….

_Whoa there, down boy_…let's not get ahead of ourselves. The things he _really_ wanted to do with Hermione couldn't be placed under the heading of they?

Exactly how far could Practicing go?

Was it just kissing, maybe a heavy snog? Ron knew that there were a lot of things included under the heading of a Snog in certain circles… a lot of wandering hands and his really wanted to wander. Then beyond that…he bit back a groan at the possibilities.

Ron purposefully reminded himself how much he cared for and respected Hermione. He shouldn't do anything with her that he wouldn't let someone…else… Blimey, if someone else did anything that he had already done with Hermione, he'd beat the shite outta them, even if they were dating.

…which Ron and Hermione were not. For the first time, he was disappointed at that.

No, Ron just…he just needed to concentrate on now…no future beyond the next Practice session. The future held too many awful possibilities and no thinking about other blokes with his Hermione, either. Those thoughts could only lead to no good.

Crap, this was the longest meeting of all time…

Then the meeting was over and Ron wished that it wasn't because Hermione had a whole lot of complaining stored up and now he couldn't stare at her quite as fully.

They made there way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That dim hallway would be perfect for a little….

They paused outside the cubical that read "Auror Headquarters." Adrianna turned to them and motioned them over. In a quiet, commanding tone she stated, "I've got a very important meeting and the four of you are going to have to wait here for a little while. I can't stress enough how important this is so I expect all of you to be on your best behavior, which means…" She looked pointedly at Hermione, "The litany of complaints will have to wait until later."

She scanned the rest of them, giving them each a private warning look. "…and no snooping and no touching strange objects and, no…" she looked at Ron, "Sneaking away because you are bored."

Great! This trip just got worse.

They were all tense as they walked past the rows of cubicles and came to an important looking oak door with a sign that read: "Flavian R. Carter, Auror Director."

Ron remembered his father talking about the Director…felt he was a bit of a stooge for Fudge…far too young to be Director…spent far too little time in Britain…

Adrianna knocked on the door and a burly, blond bloke, with a receding hairline came to the door, wearing crisp professional robes. "Miss Potter, I've been expecting you, please come in," he offered in a professional tone.

Ron felt himself get nervous as the five of them stepped into the large, opulent office. There was a heavy mahogany desk covered with various artifacts and surrounded by a half dozen arm chairs. The walls were lined with cabinets adorned with symbols and shelves of foreign appearing artifacts. On the other side of the room was a large oval table covered in maps.

Once he had closed the door the Director turned to Adrianna and his face transformed into a large, youthful smile. "'Drana, love, you look wonderful!" He embraced her warmly.

Adrianna relaxed noticeably the minute the door was closed, looking softer and less on edge them Ron had ever seen her. He hadn't ever realized that she had _been_ on edge before. He wrinkled his brow.

"Carter," she said affectionately, as if greeting an old friend, which it seemed they were. "Thank you so much." She stepped back from the hug and leaned casually on a chair.

"Wow…look at you, twenty eight years old now. I knew you'd be the one to do it."

"Yes, well…" she looked away and then around his office. "Look at this, quite up and coming…or is it up and came."

He laughed merrily, giving the teenagers a grin. "Well, considering I got this job because every Auror based in Britain had too much of a connection to Dumbledore to make Fudge comfortable. That, and I'm good at the old smile and nod…very non-threatening. Pretend you're easily manipulated…I think I learned that one from you, actually."

She snorted, "Oh Carter, I think I forgot that one. I might need a refresher course."

Carter sobered. "Yes, well, speaking of my fabulous boss…" The man leaned on his desk and looked over at Harry. "So, he's been wrong about everything, then."

"I'm not exactly sure what he's been saying….but for the most part." She shrugged then gestured toward Harry. "So, you've obviously heard of my cousin, Harry. These are his friends, Hermione Granger and Arthur Weasley's two youngest, Ginny and Ron."

The man greeted them with hard handshakes, ending with Harry. "So, Harry, what is the real truth, then?"

Harry faltered, looking round at the others. "Um…well T_he_ _Quibbler _article was pretty accurate."

The Director sighed. "I see." After a moment he turned to Adrianna "…and you met Fudge, yes?" She nodded. "What did you see?"

"Insecure, liar, paranoid, self-serving, not so bright…you know, the obvious."

He frowned. "Well, that's lovely isn't it?" After another long thoughtful silence he straightened, and looking over at the Empath he said, "We had better get you to your meeting. You kids can hang around my office. I'll be back in just a bit."

As he walked her to the door Adrianna turned and said, "Please, guys, please don't do anything that will make Mrs. Weasley hate me more." With a last pleading look she left.

The four remaining in the room looked around uneasily. Hermione seemed fairly ready to burst with comments to make. Luckily, she had the sense to keep them to herself.

"Harry," she started softly.

Well, maybe not too much sense.

"…are you really sure about this whole guardianship thing?"

Harry's eyes whipped to hers. "Yes and…and it's done!" he snapped harshly, and then averted his gaze.

Fun. Fun. Ron threw himself into a chair.

Hermione was pouting again, distracting Ron with her lip. How he wished they were anywhere but there. He was finally able to do something about his fantasies and…She caught her lip in her teeth and gnawed on it….just like he wanted to do. When she sucked it into her mouth, he just about exploded.

He shot to his feet. "I need to go to the loo." He grabbed Hermione's wrist. "You know where one is, don't you?" He was already half way to the door.

"Um, ok," she stammered.

Ginny and Harry looked astonished.

"Ron, Adrianna said…" Harry called

"Don't be daft, that makes no…" Ginny said at the same time, Ron was already out the door and down the hallway. He didn't stop until he had found that dim hallway he had seen earlier and pulled Hermione into it.

Turning to look at her he grinned broadly, feeling absurdly proud of himself. He had done it. He was doing it. He was taking charge of these…urges in side of him.

"Oh, good, Ron, we really need to talk about this. What do you make of this Mr. Carter fellow? It's all…"

"Hermione, I didn't pull you out here to talk about Adrianna," he said with a lopsided grin.

She looked confused. "Why then?"

He leaned over her, backing her against the wall. He said huskily, feeling a surge of power, "I brought you up here because you're driving me crazy."

A hurt look came over her face. "You're taking her side, again," she accused.

"Hermione, I'm not taking sides. Actually, I couldn't care less of a sodding damn. But…" He touched her lower lip with his thumb, gliding the pad over the wet surface.

"Ron." She sounded breathless. She was looking up at him with melting chocolate eyes. "What are you doing?"

"What I've wanted to do all day…Practice…" He leaned down and kissed her lower lip.

"Ron, we're in the Ministry hallway." There was a hysterical edge to her voice.

He smiled against her lip. "Uh huh…" And he loved it. He sucked that amazing lower lip into his mouth, causing her to moan.

Now, _this_ is how he wanted to spend the afternoon.

* * *

Harry stared in astonishment at the door that Hermione and Ron had just disappeared through. "I can't believe them," he said angrily, almost to himself. Hermione's surly complaining was one thing, but that both of them would risk….Didn't they understand how important all of this was to him?

"Yeah, Ron does have the lamest excuses in history. Pathetic, really. I mean the loo…he's taking Hermione to the loo. I'm ashamed to say we're blood related," Ginny said, looking around the room curiously.

"Probably dragged her out side to row again," Harry gripped. "If they cause a ruckus and get in trouble…"

Ginny snorted, "Please."

He looked at her width a wrinkled brow. "What, you don't think…oh my god…you don't think they're in the hallway snogging do you?"

She gave him a look that told him that was precisely what she thought. Then she went back to her careful perusal of the Director's desk.

"Shite," Harry muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes. How could they be so irresponsible? Well, yeah…but how could _Hermione_ be so irresponsible?

"Wrock! Wrock!"

"Oops," Ginny quickly put down an odd, bird shaped statue that she had lifted from the desk.

"Ginny! We can't," Harry said, horrified. Had everyone gone completely nutters?

"What? When will we ever get to be in the Director of Auror Headquarters again? And besides…with the two of them out there doing _whatever_, no matter what we do…we look good." The look she gave him was both challenging and mischievous. Harry was starting to find he had a weakness for that look. "I won't touch," she cajoled. "See, my hands are behind my back."

He smiled at her with hesitation, not wanting her to know how easily she'd won.

"Hey, Harry look at this," Ginny pointed out the window. "Is that the Acropolis?"

Harry came over and peered out the picture window behind Carter's desk. The view was amazing. "Naw, that's the forum…I think…that's Rome…look, there's the Coliseum."

Ginny sighed. "Must be nice," she said wistfully.

"Traveling is awesome." Harry looked at the yearning look on her face and felt… "Someday we'll go to Rome."

She looked at him with surprise and laughed. "Oh, will we, now?"

Harry shrugged, looking out again, a small smile lighting his face. "It's not so hard. I'll take you."

He didn't know what possessed him to say that, but he meant it. He couldn't think of a better traveling companion. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her looking at him strangely. It made him nervous.

He turned and started his own inspection of the room. He looked over the surface of the massive mahogany cabinets. They had the most amazing symbols etched on them and they were changing as he watched. For the first time, he regretted not taking Ancient Runes with Hermione.

'Course if Hermione were there and not out doing god knows what with Ron…

Harry's eyes found Ginny staring, transfixed at the maps scattered over the surface of the large oval table on the other side of the room. He came up behind her.

On top was a large and detailed map of Britain. Its title read "Britain Based Aurors." There were small blue circles moving ever so slightly, almost vibrating in place. Every once and a while, one would disappear and reappear in another city.

"Hey, look here," Ginny pointed to a cluster of dots in London. "'NT,' that must be Tonks and there's 'KS' and 'AM,' Kingsley and Moody…it's a good thing this isn't more detailed…they could see into Grimmauld Place."

Harry shook his head thoughtfully. "Naw, they couldn't, the Fidelius Charm …they'd probably disappear off the map all together. Maybe they'd show up there." He pointed to a place marked 'unaccounted for.'

"I hope not. That'd be awfully suspicious."

Harry noticed the other maps underneath that one. Couldn't hurt to take a peek. He leafed through them.

"Hey, no touching," Ginny teased.

A guilty smile crossed his face and he looked over at her…he didn't know what possessed him to do it, but….

"Touching, huh…" he began poking her on the shoulder and side. She giggled uncontrollably, unintentionally encouraging him.

"Stop! I'm ticklish!" she screamed.

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Oh, no…" She ran away from him to the other side of the table. She gave him a playful 'catch me if you can' look, that he couldn't ignore and lunged after her.

A few minutes of this and they were both breathless and laughing. Harry leaned on the table to catch his breath… "Hey, Gin, look at this." He pulled at a map from the bottom of the pile, whose corner caught his eye.

The heading read 'International Cooperation Auror Project- Romanian Division." His heart beat erratically. Somehow he knew there was something important here…He rolled up the top maps quickly, looking at the map in its entirety.

"Harry, what are you…?" Ginny asked at his sudden change, coming next to him and peering at the map. It was a large world map with multicolored circles scattered across it. The largest group was in Romania.

Harry's eyes found England…and a red dot labeled 'AP.' "Adrianna," he breathed.

Ginny shook her head, "That can't be, she's not British."

"No, look there are people from all over the world. They're color coded. See red's American, blue's British…looks there's a blue dot in England as well…" He trailed off. "… 'CW.'"

"That's not possible," Ginny said more intently this time and perhaps a little frantically too.

Harry looked at her. "It _would_ be more dangerous than studying dragons."

"Harry, how could my brother be an Auror and we not know it? It's ridiculous," she argued.

He just shrugged. He'd seen a whole lot stranger things than that.

They heard the door knob turn and they both rushed to roll the other maps on top of the one they were reading. They turned just as Flavian Carter stepped back into his office.

Harry's heart pounded in his ears. He felt dread…Bloody hell, if they hadn't wanted them to look at the map then they shouldn't have left them alone with it. What did they expect?

"There you are. Sorry took so long," Carter said with a winning smile. "Here, come and sit." He gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. "Where are the others?"

Harry gulped, as he sat, cursing his friends again for their marathon, 'loo' run.

"Just stepped out to the lavatory," Ginny said innocently, as she gracefully sat in a chair.

Harry looked at her in amazement. Three months in Japan and he couldn't control his emotions like she could. Maybe he should be taking lessons from her.

Luckily the Director just smiled kindly at them. "So, Harry. I hear you spent the summer in Japan. Lucky boy. Rare opportunity, you know."

Harry looked him over. "How do you know Adrianna?" He wondered if he'd get a straight answer.

The man smiled and put his feet up on his Mahogany desk, his pressed robs wrinkling carelessly. "My first overseas assignment. I was sent to save her…" He laughed. "Didn't quite work out that way."

Harry swallowed. "Why did she need saving?" Why did anyone in their family need saving? Seemed someone always wanted them dead. It was probably why most of them were.

"An old ex-Death Eater after the fall of You-Know-Who, well I guess the first fall….decided to go to the Colonies to start a new empire. We got intelligence that there was an Empath over there that he wanted to use to do just that. I suppose he wanted to create the days before the Great Massacre…

"He captured Adrianna. She was oh, seventeen at the time, still in school. Then I got captured trying to rescue her…not at all well done of me," he laughed to himself and Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I remember quite clearly, I was bound and he had an arm around your cousin's throat. He was taunting me about how easy it had all been and how effortless it was to control her. Then out of the blue she grabbed the wizard's hand and stabbed him in the eye with his own wand. Quite an actress, our 'Drana. Though, I think she was quite shocked when the wound killed him…"

There was a knock on the door and Director Carter righted himself, making himself presentable. He steeled his face in a hard director-like expression and called for the visitors to come in, but he winked at Harry and Ginny as he did so.

Adrianna walked in the door with an austere gray haired witch in pressed gray robes. "I really do appreciate this Madame Hopkirk and I'm sure…" His cousin faltered as she scanned the room and didn't see Ron and Hermione.

She had a particular set to her jaw, which Harry had come to find meant she was particularly annoyed at herself, probably for not scanning the room first. Adrianna recovered quickly and said, "I'm sure our young ladies and gentleman will prove themselves. As promised...this is my cousin Harry and Miss Ginevra Weasley. The others are…" She looked at Harry pointedly and gestured them over.

Damn them! Harry opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

"They just stepped out to the lavatory, I'm sure they will be right back," Ginny stated with expert pleasantness, as she came over and politely greeted the woman.

Harry recovered and extended his hand as well. A small, but genuine smile graced the woman's face as she took his hand. "It is, of course, a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Potter. I'm sure that under your cousin's guidance you will quite live up to our expectations."

Great. Expectations. He loved those.

"Thank you again, Madam. I don't want to take up any more of your time. I know you have important meetings." Adrianna smiled at her in the way that she reserved for very important Witches and Wizards…those she needed on her side.

"Yes, I do. A shame I couldn't meet the others. I'm sure there will be another time." With that the woman shook Adrianna's hand and Apparated out to meetings places unknown.

Adrianna pressed the door closed with a click. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" she asked with a dangerous tone. "Oh, never mind." She closed her eyes in concentration.

Her eyes snapped open and she shook her head with irritation. "Ohh, they are so dead."

* * *

_Special thanks to kjcp at CM for betaing this story_


	18. Chapter eighteen

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

**

* * *

**

"Hermione, I'm not taking sides. Actually, I couldn't care less of a sodding damn. But…"

Hermione froze as Ron ran his thumb over her bottom lip. All thoughts of Adrianna and Auror Directors disappeared with a pop. She couldn't believe he was doing this. Where had her awkward, nervous Ron gone? How did he know how to touch her like this? How did he know that just the pad of his thumb on her lip would make her breathless?

"Ron, what are you doing?" she breathed. Remember they were in the Ministry. Remember they were in the Ministry. Remember they were in the Ministry.

"What I've wanted to do all day…Practice…"

She stood in absolute shock as Ron leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her mouth. Yesterday he was hesitant and unsure…today he was almost predatory. What had happened? Was permission all he needed?

"Ron, we're in the Ministry hallway." Remember they were in the Ministry. Remember they were in the Ministry. She chanted it to herself…but the thought was ephemeral and it faded into specks and dissipated.

She felt him smile against her lips, which in itself felt like a kiss. She couldn't keep her eyes open. He murmured, "Uh huh…" and it vibrated against her mouth. Then he took her pout in between his amazing lips and sucked.

Hermione thought she was going to die. Where in creation had he learned to do that? Her lip was still in his mouth and he lightly ran his tongue over it, making her moan. He sucked harder and lightly gnawed on it with his teeth. The whole things seemed so intimate….

She realized that his arms were around her waist, because otherwise she would have fallen. That new warm, melting, terrifying pressure was developing in her pelvis. She didn't understand it. It frightened her. It made her want more.

She was in way over her head.

Ron seemed to be perfectly comfortable. Why was he perfectly comfortable? Hermione pulled away, gasping for breath…her lip sprang free with a wet plop.

He smiled at her…with a new smile, a sensual smile, a smile that was all hers. She had wanted to say something. What was it? "How did you learn that?" she asked breathlessly. Confusion flashed on his face. "You said you'd never kissed before, but that can't be true…" Her mind cleared as she felt the horrible pangs of jealousy. "You're too good at this."

The sick prat had the nerve to beam at her and pull her closer. "You think I'm good at this?" He was so close their noses touched.

His childlike pleasure at his accomplishment melted her heart….That wasn't the point!

"How could you know how to do that …that lip thing, if you've never done this before?" Part of her wanted to cry. Part of her just wanted to get back to the snogging. She couldn't stand the warring emotions. It was too confusing.

He touched her lower lip again. "You've been pouting all day. All I could think about…" He sucked at it again and her eyes rolled up into her head.

She pushed him away again. "But…"

"Hermione," he drawled huskily. "There has only ever been you." He kissed her wetly, once, twice…she was gone.

The next time, it was Ron who pulled away, asking with boyish curiosity, "You like that?"

"Hmm," she murmured. She couldn't think. _There has only ever been you._ He didn't mean it the way it sounded…did it even matter?

"The lip thing, you liked it?"

She forced her lips open, nodding drowsily. What a foolish question. Did she like it? Hermione met his eyes. He looked so eager. She loved him so much. This Practice thing was the most brilliant idea of all time. "Yeah, it's good."

He licked his lips, as if deciding something. "Hermione?" he asked with a hint of hesitation. "You try."

Oh heavens!

He wanted…he wanted her to take his incredible, plump lower lip into her mouth. She thought she might faint. Why was she freaking out? It wasn't really so much different than kissing. Why did it feel like so much more?

Ron was talking again. "You know, in the interest of education." He smiled at her seductively.

"Um…um…ok," she stuttered and he grinned.

All right, then…so now she had to do it. Somehow, it seemed so bold and he was so, well, tall. He needed to bend down more. She was feeling ridiculously nervous; her hands trembled as they reached for his head and pulled him closer. His lips were just there…ok, then, just…she placed her lips around his lower lip and froze…her heart beating in her ears.

He moaned and she found the courage to suck. Oh, heavens it was amazing, his lip was amazing. She had to run her tongue over it. God, it was so smooth and tasted so good.

He pulled away and smiled, "See, it's all instinct."

She smiled back, feeling infinitely better.

"My turn again." She melted as his lips came back to hers and her eyes fluttered shut.

"Ronald! Please, tell me that is not you." A familiar male voice broke into the bliss. Ron pulled away and dropped his forehead against her shoulder, breathing heavily. Instinctively, she stroked his hair.

"Percy," he whispered in her ear and she snapped out of her fog. Oh god, they were in the Ministry of Magic… snogging each others' faces off. When exactly in the past few days had she completely lost her mind?

Ron pulled away and faced his brother, who stood in all his pompous glory. "Hello, Percy, long time..." Ron said irritably.

Percy's eyes narrowed. "I see that you are still associating with the same…crowd and that becoming a prefect has not improved your sense of propriety and responsibility." He looked over Hermione in a way that made her feel dirty. "And I see that Hermione has finally shown her true colors."

Hermione could feel the exact moment when Ron realized what his brother meant. Tension seemed to fill him. He looked like a lion about to pounce. "What the bloody hell do you mean by that?"

"Just when you play with rubbish…"

"Ron! No!" Hermione called out in a panic, but it was too late. He had pinned Percy against the wall.

"You shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about!" Ron bit out.

"Ron, just let him go, we'll leave," Hermione pleaded, pulling at his shoulder.

But Percy didn't know what was good for him. "I know enough, it's clear as day, she's behaving like a common whore in the hallowed halls…"

"Ron!" she cried.

"Ronald Weasley, you will drop your arm!" He froze with his elbow pulled back at the intruding command yelled from behind him. Hermione took the opportunity to wrap her hands around his bicep. She turned her head and saw with shame that Adrianna, Ginny, and Harry were walking toward them. "Drop it!" Adrianna repeated, calmly.

"You don't know what he said," Ron accused heatedly, not lowering his arm.

"Yes, I do, but this is not the place. You need to walk away." Her tone was deathly cold.

Ron reluctantly dropped his arm and threw himself away, still red with anger. Hermione fought her need to go to him.

"What did you do?" Ginny demanded of Percy. Harry put a hand on Ginny's shoulder to hold her back. Percy sneered at them.

"You will all step back," Adrianna's voice cut through the tension. "You are better than this." Hermione was shocked when the other three did as they were told. The Empath turned her full attention to Percy. "You must be the final Weasley brother." She extended her hand. "Adrianna Potter."

Percy straightened himself and took her hand with an arrogant air. He smiled unpleasantly. "Yes, I had heard you were in Britain earlier this summer, but we had thought you had left. I am very close with the Minister, you see."

"Yes, well, I'm back. I'm sure the Minister will be very pleased to have that information," she told him civilly. "Nice to have met you," Adrianna added as she turned away from him.

The look on his face when he realized that he had been dismissed was priceless, but he quickly recovered and, with a condescending look, strode away clearly hoping to be the first to tell Fudge about their presence in the Ministry. Oh, god, Hermione what if he told the Minister about the snogging part. It was too humiliating. Whatever would they think of her? She'd never get a job at the Ministry now.

And, while it was mortifying, being caught by Percy, it was almost worse to be caught by Adrianna, who at the moment intruded by saying softly, "What on earth did you two think you were doing?"

It was a very good question and it just compounded Hermione's mortification that it was Adrianna who asked it.

"It wasn't us, Percy…" Ron defended angrily.

Adrianna shook her head, "No, I'm talking about you two making out in the hallway at the Ministry of Magic."

"Making out?" Ron asked, confused.

The Empath rolled her eyes. "Snogging, whatever."

Hermione closed her eyes to the shame and buried her head in her hands for good measure. What had come over her? Then just to make it worse Adrianna added, "Hermione, you don't have to like me, but acting so irresponsibly…It's going to hurt you more than it could ever hurt me."

"I know that!" Hermione snapped angrily, wishing the woman would just go away. Better yet she wished she, Hermione, would just disappear.

"You don't know what's at stake," Adrianna continued.

"Then just tell us!" the younger girl responded with frustration.

Adrianna pulled out a roll of parchment and looked at each of them. "All four of you are incredibly important. You need to realize that. I know it's not fair that you have so much responsibility at your age, but you do. So you need to watch yourselves." She handed Hermione the parchment. Ginny seemed about to speak, when she was cut off with frustration, "Yes, you too Ginny. I said four, didn't I?"

Hermione took a shaky breath and unrolled the parchment. She didn't understand what Adrianna was talking about. Harry was the important one; they were just his friends….

**-------Department Of Underage Magic-----**

_This document hereby allows the practice of Underage Magic from the dates of August 7, 1996 until August 31, 1996 by the following minors:_

_Mr. Harry J. Potter_

_Miss Hermione J. Granger_

_Mr. Ronald B. Weasley_

_Miss Ginevra M. Weasley_

_To be contained under the following conditions:_

_The practice of said magic is for educational purposes only and is to be done entirely under the supervision of Miss Adrianna I. Potter. All magic performed by previously named minors will only take place while in the same physical residence as their said supervisor. All rules of legal age magic, including the ban on performing magic in the presence of Muggles, do apply and remain in force. If at any point these conditions are violated this document will be considered null and void and proper disciplinary measures will be employed._

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Director Department Improper Use of Magic_

"If Madam Hopkirk had seen you two, she would have very likely changed her mind," Adrianna admonished, while Hermione stood in astonishment and the others pushed over to read the document.

"This is fantastic!" Ron exclaimed, grinning ear to ear.

"Yes, well, tell me how fantastic it is when you find out how hard you're going to be working for the rest of the summer." Adrianna said, taking back the parchment and rolling it up. "Come on, let's get some lunch. We have one more horrifically boring meeting before we can go home."

* * *

When Ginny stepped out of the fireplace at number Twelve Grimmauld Place, she was exhausted, but outrageously happy. Who would have thought that Sirius had thought that much of them? Well, she could see him appreciating Ron and Hermione, but her?

Maybe he just felt sorry for the poor, youngest Weasley. For once, she didn't care. She looked over and exchanged a happy grin with Ron. _He_ hadn't stopped smiling since they had learned they were going to be able to use magic for the rest of the summer.

Magic for the rest of the summer, spending money for the first time ever, a trust fund when she turned seventeen, and if she wasn't mistaken, and she was sure she wasn't, Harry Potter had flirted with her today.

Yes, life was most definitely looking up.

"Er, 'Drana?" Harry called. "There's a hole in the staircase."

Ginny rushed over to the stairs and saw a huge opening where the elf heads used to be.

"Oh, good, the twins were able to manage it," Adrianna said as she went around them and ascended the stairs.

Now what? This was really too much. Ginny dashed up the steps with her friends. She coughed as she reached the top. Dust was heavy in the air.

"Blimey."

"Bloody hell."

"What did you do?"

Ginny couldn't help but laugh as she stared at the massive gaping hole in the wall where the shrieking portrait of Mrs. Black used to hang. Strike that… not a gaping hole in the wall. There would have to be a wall for there to be a hole in it. It was all so crazy. There was no wall! Their mum was going to explode.

"See, I told you there was something behind that wall," Adrianna was saying cheerfully.

One could say that.

The room was enormous. It must have been a ball room at some point. Now, it looked as if it were a storage room for every Dark Arts object the Blacks had needed to hide at the end of the last war." Ginny reckoned the collection made clear what side of the war the Black family really was on. The far right wall was even set up like a torture chamber. Mrs. Black was leaning face down on a pile of trunks with most of the wall still stuck to her back.

"And could you believe Fred and George made this mess and then just ran off to be with their birds."

"William," Adrianna greeted with a large grin, as Bill descended the stairs.

"Adrianna," he stated warmly, laughter in his voice. He walked straight up to her and kissed her smack on the lips.

Ginny hadn't thought there was anything left that could shock her that day, but clearly she was wrong.

The Empath's response to Bill wasn't nearly as ambivalent as it had been to Charlie. She greeted him with unabashed affection. "Where have you been? Thank god you're not mad at me. I don't think I could take anymore hostility."

"Mad about what? My thick brother's stupidity? I don't think so."

Harry gave a frustrated sigh. "You know Bill as well? How…?"

"Charlie doesn't keep as many secrets from me as he does with the rest of the family." Bill grinned mischievously, barely taking his eyes off Harry's cousin. "So, I just got back to the office today from assignment. I wasn't back in the office an hour when Mum Apparates in, hysterical, demanding an explanation…Charlie's keeping secrets…consorting with the enemy."

"Consorting?" Adrianna gasped playfully. "With the enemy? And you defended me, of course."

"I didn't believe it. Wasn't even sure they were talking about the same person. I never even knew Potter was your last name. So, naturally, I promised to come over straight away and check out the _dangerou_s situation."

"I _am_ dangerous," she said with mock seriousness.

Bill laughed. "I certainly know that, though I suspect, mostly to Charlie at the moment."

She snorted. "Yeah, well…maybe you should greet your siblings before I get accused of enchanting you too."

Laughing, Bill turned away and fondly greeted his sister. "All right there, Ginny with all the…"

"Yeah, great," she reassured, hoping to avoid bringing up the Stupefying thing again…and hoping to witness more interaction between him and Adrianna. This story just got more convoluted every day.

She was relieved when Bill put an arm around her shoulders and continued his conversation with Adrianna. "Enchanted…they actually said that?"

"Well, not out loud….Ron, don't touch that!"

The boys had gotten bored with the conversation and had wandered off to take a closer look at the piles that littered the room. Ron reached out to touch a pair of shackles against the wall. He pulled back just in time to avoid the snapping metal from catching his hands.

"Honestly, Ronald, we shouldn't be touching anything!" Hermione admonished, though she looked at the stacks curiously.

"You can go through it, just no hands…use magic," Adrianna told them. They stared at her. "Go, get your wands. Go on then."

Ron and Harry grinned madly at each other and dashed for the stairs.

Ginny called out to Hermione as she followed, "Could you grab mine? It's in my trunk."Hermione nodded, continuing on. Ginny wasn't in the mood to miss anything and this was where the action was.

"You didn't? You got the underage law…? " Bill asked with a surprised expression.

"Waived... yeah." Adrianna replied absently, pulling sheets off a cluster of sofas all pushed together. "Wasn't hard. You know who the new Director of the Auror Department is?"

"Right. I had forgotten your connection to Carter."

How does he know? Ginny wondered. How much does he know? Could Bill explain the mysterious "CW" on the map?

Shite, don't think about the map. She'll hear…she didn't seem to have noticed. Yet…

Quick, think of something distracting…Harry. No! Don't! Ginny did not want Adrianna hearing her think improper thoughts about her cousin. Great, now she couldn't get him out of her head. Quick, think about Dean.

Shite, Dean! She'd forgotten about Dean. She was really a horrible person. Dean. Harry. Dean. Harry. Ahhhh!

"Ginny, are you ok?" Adrianna was looking at her with concern.

"Fine," she reassured. What the hell was wrong with her? She sank into the newly uncovered sofa.

"Ginny, no!" She jumped at Adrianna's command looking around anxiously. "You don't know what's in there. _Furia Coutore_." The scruffy furniture transformed into an elegant Burgundy sofa. Adrianna sank into it, with what looked like exhaustion.

Ginny sank plopped onto into the soft sofa beside her, thinking about all the scruffy things at the Burrow. "Are you going to teach us how to do that?"

"Sure."

"Waste of time, Gin. You'll never be able to learn that." Bill approached as Adrianna transformed the facing sofa from a ratty looking settee.

"Sure she can. She's quite powerful," Adrianna disagreed.

"You and I know it's not about power." Ginny narrowed her eyes at her brother. He continued, "It's about having a taste for the finer things in life. 'Drana's been doing these sort of transfigurations since birth, isn't that right?" He seated himself comfortably in the now matching sofa opposite them and grinned roguishly at them.

Adrianna just grinned smiled innocently and kicked off her shoes. She put her feet up next to Bill, crossed at the ankle. "Whatever you say, Bill. Just stick around, ok? Because I could really use a buffer from all the hostility around here."

Ginny tensed. It was a strange idea. Not that Adrianna would feel all those negative emotions, but that she might care.

"That bad?" Bill was mimicking her pose and kicking up his shoeless feet.

"You wouldn't believe it…except for Harry, there's nothing but suspicions, rage, and hatred."

"That's not true," Ginny found herself saying automatically. Bill and Adrianna looked at her with skeptical smiles. She found herself flailing, "I…I like you."

Adrianna laughed. "I appreciate the sentiment, Ginny. But you don't _like_ me. We both know its all about Harry."

Ginny felt a horrible sinking sensation, her secret…She was doomed. Bill was staring at her with a bright grin and a twinkle in his eye. She was really, _really_ doomed.

"It's ok, perfectly reasonable…" Adrianna went on.

Bill reached out and gave Ginny's knee an encouraging pat. "Take heart, Gin. 'Drana seems to be encouraging your …_infatuation_. That's a very good sign."

Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not infatuated." But then the words sunk in and she forgot about teasing brothers. Her eyes flew to Adrianna, who was glaring at Bill. "What do you mean? What does he mean?" she demanded to the two adults, her heart beating erratically.

It was her brother who answered. "'Drana thinks she's subtle, refusing to tell you secrets of the heart…"

"That's enough, Bill," Adrianna warned.

He just leaned forward to whisper to his sister, "But if you watch closely she gives away everything you need to know. She can't help herself."

"William!"

"And she _never_ encourages a doomed love affair."

"Speaking of which, I hear you're dating a twelve year old."

Bill stopped abruptly and looked over at Adrianna with a horrified expression. The Empath looked smug, and didn't seem to be in the mood to take any prisoners. Ginny was amused, but disappointed. Maybe she could ask Bill more about it later. Though Adrianna wouldn't have interrupted if it weren't true, and that meant…could it mean…?

"She's not twelve," Bill was replying acridly. "She's twenty."

"So, she's not half your age, just two thirds your age. Just a full decade younger than you. I wonder what would make a man your age attracted to a child like that…"

Bill eyes lit up in competition. "So, what about Charlie? Surely he is shielding some of that hostility."

Adrianna smiled back. "Well played," she acknowledged. "What I feel from Charlie, while not hostility, is far from comforting. Speaking of which, he just Apparated in downstairs."

Ginny could feel Adrianna tense next to her. This was all _very_ interesting.

But the next Weasley to enter the ballroom wasn't Charlie, it was Ron. He walked in with a worried, defeated slump to his shoulders and threw himself into the seat next to Bill.

"Poor Ron," Ginny teased ruthlessly. "Things a bit chilly, after being discovered this afternoon?" Ron scowled at her and Adrianna laughed, relaxing again.

Bill looked confused. "Where are Harry and Hermione?"

Ron stared up at the ceiling, in misery. "They're _talking_."

"And that's bad because…?" Bill asked.

Ron groaned but didn't answer.

"I think Ron might be concerned that they are discussing him," Ginny commented.

"Yeah." Adrianna gave a mock wince. "Harry was a little perturbed about your little escapade at the Ministry."

Ginny grinned with pleasure. "Ooooh, and Hermione might change her mind."

"Shut up," Ron countered, with his usual skill. How come he could only row with any skill with Hermione?

"What escapade?" Charlie asked, walking into the disaster area of a room. "And what the bloody hell happened in here?" He fell into the sofa next to Ron.

"We found a new room," Adrianna replied cheerfully. "Oh, and Ron was caught making out…_snogging_ in the hallway at the Ministry of Magic."

Ginny laughed merrily and her two oldest brothers practically sputtered with mirth.

"Hey," Ron protested. "Aren't you supposed to keep secrets?"

"Hate to tell you this, Ron, but when you do _that_ in a very public hallway, it's not a secret," Adrianna explained.

"Um… is this with the Hermione who's _not_ your girlfriend?" Charlie asked, causing Ron to bury his head in his hands, groaning.

"Not your girlfriend, huh? Mum's going to die when she hears this," Bill said almost seriously.

That made Ron look up. "Oh, no, please don't tell Mum."

Ginny actually felt sorry for him and just a twinge guilty due to her promise to Hermione.

"No one's going to tell your mother," Adrianna reassured.

"Oh, we're not?" Charlie asked.

"No, _we're_ not," she directed to Charlie. "I'm sure we can obtain quite enough pleasure from tormenting him amongst ourselves."

Bill was smiling. "I don't know, 'Drana. It could be so much _more_ fun."

Ginny knew that he wouldn't tell. He was just enjoying the torment. "Cheer up, Bill. Since it was Percy who discovered caught him, it's likely to be all over the Ministry by now." Ron groaned again.

Bill and Charlie had grown strangely quiet and still. Ginny's laughter faded and she looked at them curiously. Charlie was looking intently at Adrianna. "You met Percy?"

She sobered and nodded grimly. Bill leaned forward with a mixture of eagerness and worry. "What did you see?"

So that's what they were all about. Ginny felt her stomach clench and all trace of amusement was gone. Did any of them really want to know the answer to that question? She joined the other three redheads in their expectant scrutiny of the Empath.

Adrianna sighed and Ginny wondered if they were going to get the typical refusal to answer, but she just leaned back and sighed sadly. "It's awfully hard to be a younger brother in this family."

Bill scoffed and Charlie rolled his eyes. Ron looked to the floor.

"Don't scoff at me. The two of you are a lot to live up to… and your family doesn't even know the half of it. It's hard to find an identity when all the good ones are taken."

Ron shifted uncomfortably. Ginny wondered if the same applied to her. Somehow she felt it did.

"So, that's what the prat's about? Charlie asked angrily. "Finding himself?"

Adrianna gave a half shrug, half nod. "He's doing what he feels is right and finding a way to do it that is entirely out of your shadow."

Charlie flopped back on the sofa irritably. After a moment, he turned to his youngest brother. "Don't do something that stupid to find yourself."

Ron looked uneasy at the thought but Adrianna drew his eyes to hers as she said, "Its good advice, Ron. Especially since you have the added pressure of a destiny to contend with."

Somehow Ginny didn't think that Ron was any more prepared to deal with _that_ than she was.

* * *

Harry dashed up the stairs and into his room. He found his wand immediately. He savored the feel of it back in his hand. He had magic back again and he couldn't wait to use it.

For some reason, as he bounded back down the stairs, he paused on the first floor. Something drew him to Hermione and Ginny's room.

Standing in the doorway, watching Hermione rummage in frustration through Ginny's trunk, he realized what had drawn him here…there was something wrong with his relationship with Hermione. He was feeling a disconnection from her that he had never felt before. And, oh yeah, she was really pissing him off.

Harry didn't generally confront issues unless he was in too much of a rage to stop himself, so he surprised himself when he entered the room. He cleared his throat. "Hey."

Hermione looked up. "Oh, Harry. Can you believe Ginny? She sends me up to find her wand and her trunk is a complete disaster…Finally, here it is." She sat back and looked at him expectantly. Harry watched her become more anxious as he didn't move or speak. "Did you want something, Harry?" she asked.

"Yeah." He gathered his courage. "Yeah, I do. I was just wondering what the bloody hell was going on with you today?" Once he began talking, all the rage and hurt spilled out, unbidden. "I can understand Ron; he's impulsive and couldn't give a rat's arse about the rules. But you, Hermione? When you do something like that, I can't help but think it's downright spiteful."

"Harry, I…no," she shook her head, alarmed and anxious.

"Then why, Hermione? Why would you act so irresponsible and so un-Hermione if you weren't trying to spite my cousin and sabotage her guardianship?" He felt betrayed as he accused her.

"Harry…."

"Hey, mates." A hesitant interruption came from behind Harry as Ron stood in the doorway, looking fearful. "You ready to go down?"

Harry looked away, his jaw clenched. He heard Hermione say, "Ron, could you give us a few minutes?"

It was clear that Ron did not like the idea, but he relented and Hermione closed the door behind him. She sat down on her bed and waited for him to join her. Harry reluctantly sat, his arms crossed, and glared at her, awaiting an answer.

Hermione's look was pleading. "Harry, I assure you that what happened in the hallway had nothing to do with anything except a lapse in my good judgment." She blushed as she said this and seemed to be having trouble maintaining eye contact.

Harry scoffed. "Don't pretend that you don't hate Adrianna. That you aren't against the guardianship."

She sighed and said carefully. "I don't deny that I don't trust her and that the guardianship worries me. Harry, do you have any idea the power you just handed over to her? You barely know her and now she has complete control over you. She could pull you out of Hogwarts, she could…"

"So!" Harry interrupted her before she could work up to another rant. "So, you were so intent on sabotaging it you were willing to...to act like a …like a…" Harry couldn't bring himself to say the words he wanted to say. The unsaid insults hung heavily in the air.

Hermione flinched. "I wasn't trying to sabotage anything. I was…I just went with Ron to vent a little so I _wouldn't_ say anything to ruin this for you, then…" She trailed off, burying her head in her hands. "Oh, god."

"Then what? You got a better idea?"

"No, then he kissed me and I really didn't think of much of anything…" she mumbled the words into her hands, staring at her knees. "This is so humiliating."

Harry gaped at her. Was she really admitting what he thought she was? That she, Hermione Granger, Queen of Rules and Responsibility, not to mention Intellect and Reason, had become completely addled by teenaged lust? For some reason, the idea struck him as vastly amusing. "So, this whole practice thing really _was_ your idea?"

Her eyes snapped to his. "Ron told you about that?"

Wow, it was true. This really had nothing to do with him. It was all about…hormones? "Yeah."

"Oh, you must think I'm a total slag." She buried her head again. "Especially the way I acted today." When she raised her head again, she looked a tad desperate. "Harry, I think I might be going mad," she told him quite seriously.

He couldn't help but laugh as he felt a rush of affection for her. He placed an arm around her shoulder. "You've always been a bit mad, Hermione."

"Thanks," she muttered, eyes down.

"Hermione?" he asked more seriously. "Why do you hate Adrianna so much?

"Harry I don't _hate_ her, I just don't trust her."

"But…"

"I think it's just everyone else trusting her so completely." She rushed to continue, unable to look at him, "That and all the secrets; it makes me nervous. It makes me feel as if I'm not paying close attention, no one will and then something bad could happen." She closed her eyes and said very quietly, "And I haven't been very good at paying attention lately."

Wow, this whole Ron thing really had her off her game and she was feeling pretty guilty about it. Hermione really was just trying to protect him…them. He squeezed her shoulders to show that he wasn't angry. When she looked up, he smiled at her and said, "I think I can understand that, but I'd really appreciate it if you could at least try and give Adrianna a chance. For me?"

She nodded and said with a small smile, "I can do that."

"Come on," he said, smiling back. "We need to go downstairs and find out how many other Weasleys Adrianna has had a relationship with in the past." He paused at the door, considering. He turned back to her. "Hermione, if this thing with Ron…." What was he trying to say? He didn't even know. "If it ever, becomes, you know, not ok with you, or if he hurts you or anything, you know I would….Just let me know, all right? Best mate or not, I'll knock some sense into him for you."

She smiled warmly at him. "I'll keep that in mind."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded, all of a sudden extremely anxious to get out of the room. He led the way into the hallway and down the stairs. As they reentered the newly discovered room on the first floor, Harry found that most of the dust had been cleared away. Adrianna had her wand out and seemed to be repairing the ragged edges of the wall where the twins blast through. Harry also noticed that Charlie had joined them and the four Weasleys were carefully levitating items from the piles and creating new ones.

"Hey, mate, come over and have a look at this," Ron called with a familiar enthusiasm. Harry and Hermione walked over to where Ron and Ginny stood.

"Look, Harry," Ginny said. "We found a whole bunch of Sirius' old stuff and this trunk's labeled 'Lily and James.'"

Harry's heart clenched and his breath left him in a rush as he looked at the trunk. He shook his head. "Why would Sirius hide my parent's things in here?"

"Probably didn't," Bill called. "Bet old Mrs. Black hid them in here after he was thrown into Azkaban and they needed to hide all their Dark Magic. Sirius probably thought it had all been destroyed."

Harry swallowed, reaching for the trunk.

"Harry, your wand," Adrianna warned. "We don't know what the Blacks have done to this stuff."

Harry nodded calling, "_Alohomora_," and opening the trunk. The rush at doing his first magic in a week faded into sorrow as he saw heaps of baby clothes, books, photographs…

"Wow, quite a…a change, this is." Harry looked up to see Lupin enter. His old professor smiled and shook his head, "Reckon you were right about the other room, though Molly is going to have kittens when she sees this." He chuckled.

"I'm fixing it," Adrianna responded lightly. "Besides, it'll give her one more excuse to hate me. She'll enjoy it."

"She doesn't hate you," Charlie called.

"Are you attempting to tell me _I_ don't know what someone feels…?"

"I'm saying you're exaggerating, on purpose," he tossed back. "Besides, if you wouldn't antagonize her..."

"I'm not antagonizing anyone…."

"Hermione," Remus called, shaking his head in amusement and approaching them. "I checked on your parents today."

"Oh." She looked surprised. "Good, then. How are they?"

"They're well. No signs of Death Eaters, you'll be happy to know. They appear to be quite safe." He reached into his pocket. "They gave me a letter for you, said they hadn't received an owl from you in a few days, so they couldn't send it themselves."

Hermione had a strange look on her face as she took the letter. She muttered, "Thanks," and bit her lip, walking slightly away from the group as she read the letter.

Harry turned his attention back to the trunk. He knelt beside it and levitated things out into neat little piles. Nothing looked the least bit dangerous. Mostly it seemed to be personal mementos.

He was distracted by Hermione's gasp. He turned to see tears rolling down her face. "Excuse me," she sobbed and ran over and up the stairs. The group stood dumbly looking after her. Ron, in particular, was pale.

"Someone should go after her," Harry said.

Ron nodded and swallowed. "Yeah…Yeah, um, I think it should be you, Ginny."

Ginny looked at him as if he was crazy. "Don't be stupid, go after her."

He just shook his head rapidly.

"Ron," Adrianna called. "She wants you."

He took a hissing breath and nodded once. He wiped his hands on his trousers as he walked deliberately up the stairs.

When he had cleared the landing, Charlie turned to Adrianna and asked mockingly, "So, they're _not_ in a relationship, then?"

"Oh, they're _in_ a relationship. They just aren't ready to call it that."

Various scoffs and eye rolls filled the room.

"Don't dismiss it. It's difficult to deal with feelings that intense at their age. They're doing the best they can and I don't want any of you interfering, either."

"Why are you so concerned?" Charlie asked mockingly.

She faced him and said sadly, "Maybe I'd just like to see a love affair end happily for once."

Harry and Ginny shared a glance as the group fell silent and the tension in the room rose measurably. They seemed to be the only ones in the room able to make eye contact.

Turning back to his task, Harry's eyes found a pocket watch. It was gold with a black enamel center, delicately painted. He couldn't help but pick it up. It depicted a castle…but one with those odd teardrop shaped roofs like they have in like he had seen in Moscow. A woman with a baby was sitting in front of the castle. The gold looked tarnished and old.

"Harry," Ginny hissed. He looked up to see her looking at him in warning, as he blatantly broke the no touching rule.

He didn't know what came over him, but he whispered, "Shh!" to Ginny and slipped the watch into his pocket.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Author's Notes: This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

Ron was stunned when Hermione ran from the room in tears. Now, taking the steps as slowly as he possibly could, he felt terrified. The words, 'she wants you,' were ringing in his ears. 

He couldn't exactly shrug it off as speculation when it came from an Empath.

Why would she want _him_? What could he do? He was the absolute worst at these sorts of things. Hermione knew that. But still she wanted him. It filled him with awe, warmth…and hunger.

And he was going to muck it up big time, guaranteed.

Ron paused at the door; his hand rose to knock and he took a deep breath. If this is what Hermione wanted then he'd do it. Well, he'd try. He knocked and was rewarded with a muffled murmur. He knocked again, more insistently. This time he heard her call, "Go away, Ginny."

Ron almost laughed. Hermione thought it was Ginny. Of course she did. Ron was far too much of a coward and a loser to comfort his own girl…best mate. _His best mate! _

"Hermione, it's me," he called, and then held his breath. When she didn't respond, he began to get annoyed. He was holding his breath here. This wasn't easy for him either.

Enough! He had to get this over with or he was never going to do it. "Hermione, I'm coming in."

When he entered the room, she was lying on her belly on the bed, her face turned and buried in the pillow that she had hugged to her. He could just make out her eyes as she peered at him between a mass of hair and a soft feather pillow. They were wet.

As he knelt next to her, Ron felt a rush of affection so strong that all other emotions were pushed to the side. He brushed her hair out of her face to reveal her tearstained cheeks and her delightful pout.

He couldn't help but mimic it, relieved that she didn't seem to be 'someone had died' upset, but rather 'I got 99 points on my Transfiguration Exam' upset.

Oh, wait, he knew how to deal with the death thing, _this_ was unfamiliar territory. In this scenario, he would usually call her mental and avoid her. Somehow, he didn't think that would go over well now that they were Practicing.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

Her pout intensified. She was adorable. "I'm a terrible person," she murmured.

Ron laughed, which was probably _not_ the thing to do. She turned her head into the pillow, pressing the sides of it up around her ears and letting out a moan. "Come on Hermione, I'm sorry," he stroked her hair. "It's just that it's ridiculous." Another moan, he wasn't handling this at all well. "You're the best person I know."

Hermione sniffed and shook her head into the pillow. "I mean, if you're a horrible person what does that make me? Lower than a slug, I suppose." She shook her head again.

This wasn't working. Why did anyone think he'd be good at this? He let his forehead fall onto the bed next to her. Now what? Maybe he should just lay with her until she wanted to talk? Maybe he should just leave?

_That_ certainly sounded appealing.

Ron tried again, lifting his head and placing his chin on the bed. "Hermione, please, look at me."

Amazingly, she did. "You don't understand. I'm selfish and careless and irresponsible. A horrible person, really."

Ron started to protest but she handed him the crumpled letter in her hand. He smoothed the paper out with a sense of dread. What could be so bad that it would make Hermione act like this?

As he perused the letter, he became increasingly confused. He had to go back and read it again to make sure he hadn't missed anything. "Hermione," Ron said, shaking his head, his brow furrowed. "I don't understand. It's just an ordinary letter."

She frowned and muttered, "Crookshanks," before burying her head back in her pillow.

Hermione really was mental. "It says the mangy beast is fine. Your parents picked him up from your aunt's after they returned from holiday. Healthy as can be."

"You don't understand," she whimpered.

She was right about that.

"I forgot about him." She turned and looked at him again. "I forgot all about him. You came to the cottage five days ago and not once did I wonder where he was or even spare a thought for my own pet. He's _my_ responsibility. I'm a horrible person."

Ron sighed with relief. "Is that all?" She went to pull away from him again, but he stopped her, grabbing her hands and pulling her into a sitting position. "You're not a horrible person. Crikey, Hermione, it's been a bloody insane five days…"

"Don't swear," she muttered.

He laughed, continuing, "It's perfectly understandable that you forgot him. He was safe after all."

Hermione shook her head. "I forgot my parents as well; I sent them a quick note saying I'd gotten here safely…then nothing. I just forgot about them."

"Hermione, it's only been five days. Think of all that's happened."

"No!" she insisted, more forcefully. "A lot is always happening to us. We're always getting threatened, or kidnapped, or injured and I never forget things. I'm _always_ responsible. I get my essays done on time. I do my prefect duties. I write my parents. I take care of Crookshanks. I don't forget!"

She was getting hysterical and he was getting apprehensive. "Ok, Hermione, ok." He stroked her hand, feeling utterly impotent.

"And just look at my behavior today. Percy was right. I was acting like a common whore in the Ministry of Magic…"

"Hermione! No!" he protested, outraged at even her for saying such a thing.

But she ignored him. "…I haven't even been thinking about Adrianna or Death Eaters or Charlie and what in the name of Magic is going on there? I have no idea if Adrianna is evil or if she's Harry's savior, and it's because I _haven't_ been paying attention. I could be condemning her and ruining my relationship with Harry for no good reason. I should have lists…and a plan…and theories. But I don't…I don't because something's wrong with me."

Now Ron was scared. He shook his head against the words. "It's just a lot…."

"No, Ron." There were new tears in her eyes. "_It_ hasn't been a lot. _We've_ been a lot." She bit her lip and looked down. "I've been distracted, because of…because of what we've been doing, the Practicing and such." Her voice was barely audible. "I haven't been responsible because all I've been able to think about is these…_feelings_."

Ron gulped, "Feelings?"

"Yes, Ron." She looked at him in frustration. "These stupid, tingly…" her voice dropped an octave, "_sexual_ feelings." Then she turned away again, embarrassed.

The first thing Ron felt was arousal. He made her tingly…and distracted. Did it feel for her the way it felt for him? The idea gave him a rush of pleasure. And, Shite, Hermione just said 'sexual.'

Then Ron allowed himself to take in her miserable posture and tearstained face. He was hurting her. He was hurting her with his perverted, self-interested lust. It was all his fault. Once again, he was the reason Hermione was crying.

He moved to sit next to her, his eyes on the floor. "Maybe…" He couldn't believe he was saying this. "Maybe we should stop, then." The words stuck in his throat. Ron felt as though something inside him was dying. "I don't want you to feel like you're not yourself."

He wanted her to be happy. That was the most important thing. He forced himself to look at her. Hermione was staring at him and when he met her eyes, she said, "Maybe you're right." Misery filled her voice. Then she let out a gut wrenching sob that tore at his heart.

Ron pulled her to him roughly, wrapping both arms around her as far as they could go, burying his head in her bushy curls. Hermione sobbed even louder into his shirt.

He had no words to comfort her. Hurt and disappointment were choking him. Ron felt like he was losing something important. He felt like he was losing her.

It was ridiculous. He wasn't _losing_ Hermione. She was right there… his best mate. But the longer the minutes stretched out, the worse he felt and Hermione's despair hadn't faded. He could feel it coming off of her in waves.

Why were they doing this to themselves? It was insane. It wasn't fair. They'd barely even gotten a chance to start.

"Hermione," Ron forced himself to say. "I don't think we should."

She nodded, miserably. "It's all right, if you want to stop…."

"No…I mean…I mean we shouldn't stop."

Hermione's crying stilled and she pulled away, looking up at him.

"No listen," he tried to explain. "Since when do we give up after one little obstacle? We can…we can work around this." He was talking nonsense, he knew, but she was listening raptly. "We just need to, you know, be more careful. Not let things get out of hand. We can Practice _and_ be responsible. I know we can. Well, I know you can and I'll…I'll try as hard as I can."

"But, Ron," she said sadly. "It's so overwhelming."

He shook his head. "It's only overwhelming because it's new. It'll get better. So, really what we need is _more_ Practice." Ron didn't even know where that last bit came from, but he'd never been so bloody proud of himself.

She actually seemed to be buying it. "I suppose that's true," she said, biting her lip.

He rushed to continue the momentum. "We just need some ground rules." Yeah, she would like that. Rules. "Like no Practicing in a public place."

Hermione gave a huff of a laugh.

"Or when Mum, or anyone else could find us, or when we should be doing something else. We'll just, you know, find a time when we probably would be alone anyway and instead of say, rowing…" She laughed again and he smiled at her in a way that he knew would make her melt. "We'll just Practice."

"I suppose that would be all right," she said with a shy smile. She looked much calmer. Thank god!

Ron's breath left him in a rush. Disaster averted. Feeling lighter, he smiled and said, "All right, then we should…" He started to stand.

Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him back down to sit beside her. She was staring at his chest when she said, "We're alone now…and your mum's out and everyone else is busy with that mess downstairs…" She glanced up at him through her eyelashes.

The arousal was back full force. "I don't suppose they really _need_ us to go through all that stuff…."

She nodded and licked her lips, making them glisten. "And I did promise that _later_…"

Hermione met him half way in a reverent, almost chaste kiss. It filled him with emotion. He felt like he'd almost lost her. What would he do without her? Without this?

Desperation overwhelmed him. Ron reached for her and crushed her to him with a force he hadn't intended, but couldn't control. She grabbed his head with equal passion, splaying her hands on either side of his face. Her kiss turned as frantic as he felt and he began to devour her with equal fervor.

Maybe, just maybe, this meant as much to her as it did to him.

* * *

Ron was wrong. Hermione was selfish. There were so many important things to worry about and no matter what he said, this made her feel weak. She _was_ weak. She couldn't give this up. She needed it.

Hermione pulled his face closer to hers, sliding her lips over his harshly. She tasted tears and Ron. She ate his lips as if they were ice cream and she hadn't had dessert for a month.

She had almost lost this.

Her abdomen was filling with that new, scary hunger that pooled between her legs and made her moan and suck on his lips. Ron growled in response and she felt his teeth. Hermione loved it when he was animalistic. What was wrong with her?

He caught her with her mouth open, unawares, and plunged his tongue inside, aggressively. He'd never been _that_ aggressive before. The heat between her legs tripled. She gasped and pulled away, frightened.

"Are you ok?" he asked anxiously, his breath coming in pants, his lips swollen.

Hermione nodded, licking her lips. She could still taste him. "Yeah, yeah, I was just startled."

Ron cupped her cheek. "It was too much."

"No," she said breathlessly, leaning into his hand. "It was just a surprise." She looked at him and smiled lazily. Hermione felt as though she'd taken a pain killing potion or something. "I just think we need to Practice that one some more."

He gave her his big, bright smile. It made her dizzy. He leaned back into her, then hesitated, making eye contact. "You want to try that again, right?"

Hermione nodded. "Uh huh." Her stomach seemed to be in her throat. She licked her lips and parted them to encourage Ron. He approached her head on and aligned their open lips. Carefully, his tongue came out and touched hers. He paused, then came closer still and made a slow, meticulous perusal of her mouth.

It made her feel….treasured.

With equal hesitation, she allowed her tongue to run over his, earning a moan from him. Ron's uncertainty slipped away as he tilted his head even more so that their lips could fit more closely together. He stroked her tongue with his and the dam broke.

Her mouth and tongue moved more quickly to match his, making him increase the intensity, making her slip into his mouth…soon their teeth were clashing and her head was swimming.

She barely recognized that they had moved up to their knees and were pressed tightly together. She was clutching at him. It was too much.

Hermione heaved herself away, moving completely away so that she was once again sitting on the edge of the bed. She clutched at the quilt as she struggled to breathe. She snuck a look at Ron. He was sitting on the side of the bed as well. He looked like he was doubled over in pain. "You all right?"

He nodded, looking at her breathlessly. "Brilliant…it was just…"

"Intense."

"Yeah, intense."

"I wasn't quite expecting that."

He nodded. "Yeah, we just need more Practice."

Ron moved toward her again and she held up her hand. "Wait." He looked stricken. "I just need another minute… to calm down."

Ron nodded and sucked his lower lip into his mouth, making her imagine it was hers. He was staring at her like he wanted to devour her. "Um, Hermione, could I …could I try something else?" He was staring at her neck.

She gulped. "Um…ok." Somehow, she didn't think this would be any less intense.

Ron slid on the bed so that their hips touched. He brushed the hair off her shoulder, as she watched, transfixed. She felt as though she was dreaming as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her jaw.

When he looked up at her, they were so close their eyelashes were almost brushing. "This is ok, right?"

He must have been asking because of the rigid way she sat and the way she clutched the bed until her knuckles turned white. Hermione barely managed to say, "Yeah," her throat was so thick.

Ron went back to kissing her jaw line, leaving a path of fire. Hermione could feel him watching her. Surely, he could see the pulse beating in her neck. It felt like it would burst.

He became a little bolder and the kisses became open and wet. His hand was buried in her hair, holding her to him. Her eyelids were too heavy to keep open. His lips traveled along her jaw to the edge of her ear and then to the very pulse point that was giving her such trouble.

"Ron," she found herself saying breathlessly.

He paused, she felt his hand clench at her side. "Say it again," she felt him say in her ear, huskily.

She shivered, not sure what to do. Then he attacked her throat with increased vigor and it came out naturally. "Ron."

He growled again and nipped at her. "God! Hermione!" She couldn't stand it any longer and grabbed his head, bringing his mouth back to hers. They came back together as if they had never paused with clanking teeth and dueling tongues. She wrapped her arms around his neck as far as they would go, mewling and swallowing his moans as well.

There was a loud knocking at the door, causing them to pause. "Oy, you two, you can use magic now. You might want to try a silencing charm," they heard Harry yell.

"Harry!" Ginny admonished from the hallway. "We don't want them to do that _now_. Are you decent? 'Cause we're coming in."

"Yes, we're decent!" Hermione snapped, trying to smooth her hair. Ron leaned over with his elbows on his knees, running his hand over his face.

The door opened and Ginny walked in, immediately bursting out laughing at the sight of them. "You call that decent?"

Harry blushed when he saw them, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Your mum's home, dinner's ready."

"And you're damn lucky she didn't come up after you… 'Ron,'" she moaned mockingly. "'God, Hermione!'"

Hermione closed her eyes in shame. She would never forget the silencing charm again.

"Hey, um, I'll see you down stairs, then." Harry scurried out.

Ginny rolled her eyes as he left and motioned for Hermione. "Come on into the lavatory. Lucky for you I know a few beauty charms. Nice love bite, by the way."

Hermione's hand flew to her neck. Mortified, she watched Ginny leave and rose to her feet. Half way to the door she turned. "Ron?"

"Hmmm?" He looked up at her without sitting up. He was flushed.

"Um, I don't think it's a good idea if we sit next to each other at dinner…or across from each other even…it could be, you know, distracting."

He nodded, Adam's apple bobbing.

"We should…um…," she continued. "Be extra careful around people…"

"So we can focus," Ron finished. "Right; no public touching."

Hermione nodded, biting her lip. She turned and headed toward the door again.

"Hermione, wait!" he called just as she stepped into the hall. Ron came over to her quickly and stood close to her…not touching her, but close enough that he may as well have been. "Um about that…" he looked down shyly, then back up through his lashes with a pleading expression. "We can still… you're still going to sleep with me, right?"

A rush of affection filled her and pulled at her heart.

"'Cause I can't sleep if you don't," Ron finished.

She couldn't help but smile at him. She touched his cheek and brought his eyes more fully back to hers. "Yeah, ok, but…only after everyone is asleep."

She was graced with another winning smile as Ron shyly turned and walked toward the stairs to the second floor.

Was he walking funny?

* * *

Ron bounded into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning whistling happily. He was the last one there, which was carefully planned, of course. Didn't want anyone to think anything _uncharacteristic_ had been going on. Ron had actually been up since dawn. Ever since Hermione had quietly slipped back to her own bed.

He settled himself in a chair across from Hermione, but not directly across. He didn't want to distract her. That's right, he, Ron, distracted her. He had the power to turn that beautiful mind to jelly and make her moan his name.

"Ronald!"

He jerked his head. "Yes, Mum?"

"I asked you if you wanted bacon or ham. Weren't you listening?"

Well, maybe she distracted him a little, too. He should probably work on that. "Um, both."

His mother shook her head and filled his plate. "That's what you get for having too much of a lie in. Too much sleep addles the brain."

Ron avoided answering by shoveling food into his mouth. If only she knew what was really addling his mind.

"I hope you enjoyed it. It's the last one you'll have in a while."

Ron looked up to see who spoke, finding Adrianna sitting across from him. He really hoped she wasn't reading his mind and referring to Practice. "Lass whah?" he asked his mouth full of food.

"Last time you'll be sleeping in." She took a sip of her coffee. "From now on training starts before breakfast."

"Whatever for?" Ginny asked, aghast.

"Morning all," Charlie called, sauntering into the room.

"Morning, dear," Molly replied as her second eldest gave her a kiss on the cheek. "It's summer holiday, why should they be getting up early for lessons?" she asked crossly.

"Because," Adrianna countered. "I have a piece of paper from the Department of Under Aged Magic that says for the rest of the summer I'm in charge of teaching _all_ four of them to_ not _die."

Charlie interrupted the mutual glaring. "Adrianna," he warned, before hissing in her ears, "stop antagonizing my mother."

"I'm not," she protested softly.

"You are."

They continued their hushed _discussion_ throughout the remainder of breakfast, lapsing in and out of English. Ron wasn't paying all that much attention. Oh, he tried at first. For Hermione, since she had said they needed to figure out what was going on with them. But while it seemed that Hermione was right, as usual and that there was something going on, for the life of him, Ron couldn't figure out why he should care.

Now, Charlie was pouting at Adrianna to transform his coffee and she was ignoring him. Hardly menacing.

"Dobby, could we have four glasses of water?" Adrianna called out. "Ready for your first lesson?"

It took Ron a minute to figure out she were talking to them. "We're doing magic at breakfast?" Hermione asked, seemingly unable to decide whether she should be excited or appalled.

"Yup, now watch here." Adrianna pulled over Charlie's coffee. "A simple circle with your wand." She demonstrated. "And _Cambi Lalimento."_

"We're going to make coffee?" Ginny asked, perplexed.

"We're making hot chocolate," Adrianna explained. Charlie started to protest. "Yours is Hazelnut Mocha, same as always. It's the same spell."

Mrs. Weasley harrumphed, coming to stand over them like a mother hen, with her arms crossed. "This is defense?"

"This is survival. The first step in turning rocks to food."

"The trick is getting it to taste like something other than rocks, which I'm willing to bet a month's galleons they can't do," Charlie laughed.

"Shush!" she admonished. "Charlie's just bitter because he's _challenged_ in this area. Ignore him. I'll walk you through it."

Charlie sniggered as Ron and the others pulled their mugs to them. Ron didn't have much hope that he was going to be able to perform this spell. If Charlie couldn't do it… He also wasn't thrilled that his mother was standing over them watching. Watching him be the worst in the group, which he always was. It was bad enough that Hermione was always privy to these little humiliations….

Ron glanced over at Hermione who was desperately trying to hide her eager smile. She was so adorable. Oh well, why let his ordinarily piss poor abilities at transfiguration ruin his good mood?

"Ok, close your eyes… the key to all transfigurations is imagination." Adrianna started and Ron thought he heard his brother scoff. "The better the image is in your head, the better the result. I want you to imagine the best cocoa you've ever had."

Ron relaxed in his chair; this was something he could handle. He remembered the amazing hot cocoa they had been served during their numerous trips to the Hogwart's hospital wing.

"Think about how it tastes, hold it in your mind…."

Mmmm. It was rich and warm, the perfect combination of sweetness with a touch of bitterness. There was the rich, smooth taste of heavy cream... and just a touch of cinnamon.

"Imagine how it feels on your fingertips, on your tongue, your lips…"

What were they talking about? The feel of Hermione, beneath his hand, his lips, his tongue, sprang to his mind. Right, cocoa. The thick, velvety feel of chocolate as it flowed over his tongue. Mmmm, chocolate and Hermione, hot, but not hot enough to burn.

"How does it look…?"

That was easy, it was a warm, deep, heavenly brown, the color of Hermione's eyes.

"Finally, the smell…"

Ron breathed in, unconsciously, smelling the warm chocolate smell. Damn, now he was hungry again.

"Ok, open your eyes, one circle, clockwise with your wand and say _Cambi Lalimento."_

Ron was the last to perform the spell, feeling relaxed and hazy for some reason. He could still taste chocolate and Hermione on his tongue. "_Cambi Lalimento."_

He didn't actually realize what was happening, when it was happening. Ron watched the water swirl and turn thick and brown…into the exact color of Hermione's eyes. Ron frowned, touching it with his fingers. It was hot and clung to him.

He looked around. Harry's mug looked like water with a drop of chocolate melted in it. Ginny's was a thin, watery brown. Hermione's, of course, was a thick dark brown.

"Not bad," Adrianna said. "Hermione's and Ron's look really good," she added, with a sideways glance at Charlie.

"I bet it tastes like mud," he replied.

Hermione looked affronted and immediately lifted up her mug to take a sip. She tried valiantly to hide her grimace. "It doesn't taste like mud, exactly," she said over Charlie's laughter.

Adrianna glared at Charlie. "Ron, try yours."

Hesitantly, he lifted the mug to his mouth. If Hermione's cocoa tasted bad, his would probably taste worse than those slugs he vomited. Everyone's eyes were on him, making it much worse. He closed his eyes and forced himself to drink.

"So?" Ginny prompted, eagerly.

Ron just held out his cup to his teacher, who frowned and took it. She drank without hesitation, smiling broadly. "This is fantastic Ron! I didn't know your were so good at Transfiguration." She turned to Charlie, "Ha!"

"He's not," Harry said, sipping his own cup and frowning. "Blah…..tastes like water."

"Give me that," Charlie grabbed Ron's mug and drank. His face betrayed his surprise. "How did you do that?'

"Charlie, your brother clearly has more imagination than you do," Adrianna teased.

"He's got a bigger stomach, is what he has," Charlie countered.

Molly lifted the mug out of her son's hand and drank. "Why, Ron, that's wonderful."

Ron couldn't help but smile as he watched Hermione's disbelieving face as she too tried the cocoa and gave him a look of awe. He'd never felt so proud…well, maybe last night when he made her moan his name….

This was really turning into quite a brilliant summer.

* * *

Ginny stifled a giggle as Ron knocked Harry over with a particularly enthusiastic _Expelliarmus._ Adrianna was assessing their previous Defense Against the Dark Arts skills, one by one. They were in the ballroom, using the side they had already cleared out. Luckily for Harry, Adrianna had transfigured some blankets and pillows into padding for walls and floors.

Ginny thought her brother's usual sloppy magic was at its best today, probably due to the confidence boost afforded by the whole hot cocoa thing. Given Ron's unhealthy obsession with food, she was astonished that anyone was surprised.

Though how he could concentrate with the presence of his snog buddy, as well as with their instructor's constant bickering with Charlie ….

"Charlie, what are you even _doing_ here?'

"Just lending my emotional support."

"That's very thoughtful of you, but aren't you needed back in Romania?"

"Not really."

"Charlie!"

"I've taken holiday."

"And how long is this _holiday_?"

"Haven't decided, got a lot of time saved up."

And on it went. Ginny was finding the current state of affairs marvelously entertaining.

"Ginny?" Hermione's whisper pulled her attention to the girl next to her. "Do you think she's distracted?"

"Who? Adrianna?" the younger girl laughed. "Yeah, I'd say she's distracted. Why?"

Hermione looked around anxiously, and then whispered, "We haven't discussed the Death Eater incident since Harry and Adrianna came back."

Now Ginny was distracted. She glanced quickly between Hermione and the Empath. Adrianna didn't seem to be listening …to their words or their thoughts. Though the way Ginny's anxiety was rising, it probably wouldn't be long before she got her attention. "I told Harry about it," she confessed.

"Oh," Hermione responded lamely, looking down. Ginny kept her eyes carefully trained on Harry and Ron, only glancing at the older girl out of the corner of her eye. "What did he say?" Hermione asked.

"He thinks Adrianna is a target for Voldemort, now that she's in his life."

"Hmmm." Hermione lips thinned, as she said softly, "That's one explanation."

Ginny turned, looking Hermione in the eyes. "What are the others?" The question was genuine, she had no idea what had happened that night. The idea that Adrianna was behind it all seemed absurd now.

"It could have been someone working with Adrianna…no listen, she has all these connections and people are willing to do her favors….and no one was hurt at the Burrow, which is suspicious if Voldemort was behind it." Ginny continued to look skeptical and she continued, "If Adrianna was ok with us reading those books, why did she take them with her when she left?"

Ginny frowned, taking in Hermione's concerned, analytical expression. She steeled herself before saying, "I think we should ask her."

"What?"

"I think we should ask her about the books and tell her about what the Death Eaters took." Ginny crossed her arms, ready for a fight.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't think that's wise."

"She's going to find out anyway…one of us will think about it at the wrong time. This way we can gauge her reactions better. Besides, she'd probably be able to help."

"We can control our thoughts. We just need to be careful."

"Careful of what?" Harry asked, making Ginny startle, having not seen him come over. She looked to see Adrianna was now directing Ron through some of his fourth and fifth year charms. "Careful of what?" Harry repeated.

"We just…" Hermione began.

"We were talking about the Death Eaters stealing the Empath stuff," Ginny interrupted what was obviously going to be a lie from Hermione, judging from the scathing look she received. She met the look, stating calmly, "I was saying we should talk to Adrianna about it."

"Let's not be rash…" Hermione whispered.

Harry looked at Hermione with a challenging expression. "Ginny's right. I don't know why I haven't mentioned it before. I don't want to keep any secrets…"

"Hermione, you're up," Adrianna called, as Ron walked toward them.

"Just, wait, _please_," Hermione entreated quietly as she walked over to the padded area.

Ginny leaned over to Harry. "No, secrets, huh. So, you told her about that pocket watch you took yesterday…. and about what we saw on the Auror map."

Harry's response was to redden and give her a guilty half smile that made her feel a little flushed herself. It was rather hard to be upset about a secret he kept from everybody but her.

"All right, now I want you to…" Adrianna paused in her instructing of Hermione, turning to look at her curiously. "What research notes?"

Ginny's attention was immediately diverted back to Adrianna and Hermione. Everyone else was looking at them curiously as well. Ginny had _told_ Hermione that she couldn't keep a secret from the Empath for long. Was anyone _ever_ going to listen to her?

"What else did the Death Eaters take?" Adrianna questioned Hermione, who stood biting her lip and grimacing.

Charlie sprung out of his chair. "What about Death Eaters?"

"They took Hermione's and Ginny's research on me and Empaths," Adrianna explained, crossing her arms and staring at Hermione intently.

"You were doing research…" Charlie accused.

"Of course they were," Adrianna waved a dismissing hand. "Wouldn't you? Which book, Hermione?"

The girl sighed, "_The Legend and Legacy of the Empath."_

"In the original German," Ron offered helpfully. "Hermione was translating the bloody thing…" He trailed off at the look he received from Hermione.

"Why would they want that?" Adrianna said softly, almost to herself.

"Obviously, they are after you," Charlie stated heatedly.

Adrianna rolled her eyes. "There is nothing about _me_ in that book. It's a history. Besides, it's not like that's the only copy in the world. Why go to all the trouble of breaking in and stealing it? It makes no sense. Are you _sure_, Hermione?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"You're not sure." The Empath stated.

"Well…it was at home when the Death Eaters attacked and I wasn't able to look for it myself. They didn't bring it with my things…and I had told them to."

"So, they could have been after something else," Adrianna concluded.

''Drana, this is serious." Charlie was frowning.

She shook her head. "What could they possibly have gotten that wasn't common knowledge? Ginny and Hermione didn't know anything that would put me in danger and those books…"

"They do explain about your powers," Harry called out with a worried expression.

"It's nothing…"

Adrianna was interrupted by Charlie grabbing her arm roughly. "I need to talk to you." He pulled her over to the far end of the room, behind a stack of unsorted Black family heirlooms.

Charlie began what seemed to be a lecture in that extremely annoying other language. As Hermione walked back over to her friends, Adrianna interrupted to call out, "Hermione, those books are in my room. You can read them any time you want." Then she was drawn back into the intense argument with the older Weasley.

The four friends exchanged solemn glances as they came together as a group. Ron broke the silence. "Maybe we're all overreacting. Adrianna didn't seem very concerned."

"Yeah, but," Ginny glanced over to the arguing twosome, "Charlie sure is."

* * *

Thanks to everyone who has taken the time toreview. I hope you are enjoying the story.

If you are18 or over I recomendthe NC-17 version of this story visit There is also a running discuission of the story at http/forums. Thanks again.


	20. Chapter Twenty

* * *

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

This version has been modified from the original NC-17 version, housed at Specifically, explicatives have been modified and sexual situations made less explicit. Any large changes will be pointed out in author's notes. Thank you and enjoy.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Twenty

* * *

**

Hermione stood alone, in front of the massive bookcase in Adrianna's room. It was close to midnight and she was physically exhausted, but her mind was alert and exhilarated. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Remus had long since gone to bed.

After being drilled all morning and afternoon on the defensive spells they knew, Adrianna had finally decided to teach them something new. As with everything else she did, she didn't mess around. So, in the late afternoon they began their first round of wandless magic.

It made sense, really, when disarmed the most important survival technique is to rearm yourself. Hermione could still feel the thrill, the sense of accomplishment, when she saw her wand, across the ballroom floor, twitch and shift toward her when called. The magic came from her, not her wand….it was amazing.

They had barely gotten started when they were called to dinner, drained and distracted. The four of them hardly said a word while they ate ravenously. Remus and Mr. Weasley engaged Charlie and Adrianna in a discussion about foreign Wizarding policy and there was surprisingly little bickering from anyone.

After dinner, Mrs. Weasley had suggested that they retire early and Adrianna didn't say a word against her, but unanimously, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry had begged to continue with the training. So they had worked on, drilling themselves over and over until shortly after ten when every last one of them had finally managed to make their wand fly into their hands at least once.

When Adrianna had first told them what they were going to do, Hermione had thought she was crazy. Well, she always thought the Empath was a bit, well….Most full grown Wizards never mastered the task they were being asked to accomplish tonight. In half a day. Adrianna had simply said it was evidence of how truly powerful the four of them really were. Hermione didn't quite know what to think of that.

But she was proud of her accomplishment, of their accomplishment…of Ron….who even now was so thrilled at what he had achieved, two difficult spells in one day, that he was across the hall having Adrianna teach him how to transfigure their narrow bed into 'something more comfortable.'

Hermione had always said that all he needed was to apply himself. She couldn't quite understand how he'd accomplished such delicious hot cocoa though. She hoped he wouldn't get discouraged he didn't get the bed right, not after all he'd done today.

Hermione perused the titles on the bookcase. How much could you tell about a person about their book collection? A dozen potion books, some books on healing, Defense Against Dark Arts books that bordered on Dark Arts books. But then there was Magical Design, Making Life Beautiful, and How to Live in Luxury Wherever You Are. A whole section was devoted to muggle psychology. What would an Empath need with those?

Hermione's eyes lingered on a book called Overcoming Trauma. She ran her finger along the spine. She wandered on; many of the books weren't in English. For some reason a text called Große Magische Liebe-Geschichten caught her eye.

Great Magical Love…something…half a German CD course does not make for fluency. Nonetheless, odd as it was, Hermione picked the book up. Maybe it was the incongruity of finding it between the book about Death Curses and the scary looking text in Latin that appeared to have real bone in its spine.

Hermione carefully opened the front cover finding a hand written note in the front cover that seemed to be written in the same foreign tongue that Adrianna and Charlie conversed in. It was written to 'Anna' and signed 'Charlie.'

Her heart beat faster. She felt horribly intrusive, but justified her behavior by telling herself that the Empath intruded on them all the time. Hermione noticed the inner binding was cut and she bent it back revealing a slip on parchment inside.

Looking guiltily at the door she pulled it out. It wasn't parchment at all. It was a photograph…a photograph of Adrianna and Charlie looking a whole lot younger and a whole lot happier. She was leaning back on him and he had his arms wrapped around her.

Were they in love? Are they in love? Did Adrianna feel for Charlie what she felt for Ron?

Suddenly, the shame at her voyeurism was overwhelming and Hermione quickly shoved the picture back into the binding and put the book back on the shelf.

But she couldn't stop the questions from flowing through her mind. What had happened to them? What brought them from the moment the picture was taken to the tense couple downstairs? Had there been a horrible break up? Was it unrequited love? Hermione and Ron had many happy pictures like this.

Maybe they were best friends who were secretly in love with one another, but never admitted it so…which was completely ridiculous since Adrianna was an Empath and she could feel everything that Charlie felt…there would be nothing that he could keep secret.

Was that what destroyed them? The Empathy? Hermione had a horrible selfish thought…she hoped it was. That way what had ruined them, could never ruin her and Ron. Then at least they could have a chance.

She couldn't control the dread that filled her, as she couldn't control the images of her and Ron ending up just like them. What if her plan didn't work? What if they never got together in the way that she wanted? Would she end up like Adrianna? Hard, arrogant, bossy, and alone?

Would she run away for three years to escape the pain of being near him and not being with him? Is that what Adrianna had done? Run from Charlie?

Hopelessness and helplessness filled her and Hermione knew she had to get out of this room and get these thoughts out of her mind.

She found the books she was looking for. She pulled the Diary and The Legend and Legacy of the Empath off the shelf. On impulse, she grabbed the trauma book as well.

Hermione paused in the hallway, halfway between Adrianna's room and Ron's. She couldn't go in there. The Empath would know immediately what she had been doing, what she had been going through. She anxiously moved to stand against the wall next to Ron's door, hugging the books to her chest and listening as she wracked her brain for a way to keep the secret.

She heard Adrianna's laughter inside the room. "I don't know what to tell you, Harry. Seems he's just a natural."

"Since when?" Harry was laughing as well, but there was a twinge of envy in his voice.

"I reckon I just have taste for the finer things in life, mate," Ron joked.

"Yeah, right," Harry retorted and there were the sounds of a scuffle and Adrianna laughed again.

"All right, I'm off to bed. I'd suggest you two do the same. We're still starting physical training at eight."

There was a collective groan and Hermione jumped back. Think of something else. Oh dear, she had to think of something else.

"Hermione?" Adrianna said, now standing in front of her. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Oh no, think something, sing something, a rhyme maybe.

Adrianna gestured toward her books. "Oh, yeah, I did," Hermione managed. "I took another one, I hope…"

"That's fine…have a good night." The Empath smiled and disappeared behind her door. Hermione sighed with relief and entered the boys' room.

Two steps in and she froze. Her jaw dropped open.

"What do you think?" Ron asked eagerly with a huge, boyish smile on his face.

"You did this?" she asked, astonished.

His reply was hurt. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Yeah, actually it was. It was pretty much impossible to believe that the two large four poster beds, exact replicas of their dorm room beds in Hogwarts, had been transfigured by, well, Ron. "But you were only in here a few minutes," she protested.

Ron frowned. "We were in here for over an hour. You've learned plenty of spells that quick."

Yeah, but this was, well, Ron. Hermione always believed he wasn't working up to his potential, but this? Had he turned a corner? Would he go back to school focused and...?

If Hermione wasn't the smart one than who was she? How would she fit in? What would her role in Ron's life be?

"You could have some faith in me, Hermione. I'm not a complete incompetent."

The look on his face broke her heart and she felt deeply shamed for her awful thoughts. "No, of course you're not. It's just…it's amazing. I'm amazed," she said lamely.

He smiled then. "Adrianna said I'm a natural. She said I was probably good at Transfiguration before, but I was never asked to make anything I cared about. I mean, why would I want to turn a perfectly good rat into a goblet, eh?"

Ron looked boyish and eager and so craving of approval that Hermione just couldn't… "I always knew you could do it."

He smiled shyly at her, making her heart skip a beat.

"Eh hem," Harry cleared his throat. "So, I'm …er going down to the kitchen for a bit. When I come back I'm expecting that bed to be Imperturbable and no sounds to be coming out of it." He gave them a look that was at once amused, taunting, and excruciatingly embarrassed, before dashing out the door and closing it behind him.

He left Hermione feeling more awkward toward Ron than she had felt in months.

"So," Ron said, with a lop-sided grin. "You want to try?" He bounced on the bed for emphasis. "It feels as good as it looks."

It was the worst possible thing to say. Is that all he wanted her for? Was it all physical? Was she making the biggest mistake of her life? Hermione felt like crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ron asked, with concern, sitting up fully.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

But she mustn't have been very convincing because he got off the bed and uneasily approached her. He fumbled a bit before wrapping his arms around her. Then he seemed to remember what to do and tenderly embraced her, rubbing her back with his hands and her hair with his cheek. "Really, what's wrong?"

Hermione sighed, relaxing into him, not knowing if his warm embrace made her feel better or worse. She shook her head into his chest. "I was just thinking about Adrianna is all," she confessed.

He pulled back with a long suffering look. "Hermione…."

"About her and Charlie."

He pulled away and crossed his arms. "About their secret?"

"Sort of." She looked at the floor. "Ron, do you think they're in love?"

* * *

Ginny couldn't sleep. Adrianna had said that the first time someone did wandless magic it was intense, that it changed one in the process, that the caster became the instrument of magic and not the wand. 

Now the youngest Weasley knew exactly what she had meant. The magic was coursing through her veins, making it almost impossible to settle down and sleep. And she had only managed to bring the wand all the way to her hand one time.

But she had done it. She wasn't sure she could. Actually, she had been positive that she wouldn't be able to. Who would have thought a fifteen-year-old witch, an almost fifteen-year-old witch, could do wandless magic?

Ginny was on her bed, lying on her stomach with a quill in her hand and parchment on the hard bed before her. A single candle on the bedside table lit the room. Taking advantage of her time alone, also known as the time when Hermione abandoned her for her brother's bed, Ginny was trying to write a letter.

She was trying to write a letter to Dean Thomas, the boy who had been hinting that he wanted to be her boyfriend all summer long. And she had flirted right back. And she certainly never hinted that she wanted anything different.

Now, she stared down at the parchment, unable to think of a thing to say. Oh, yes there was always: 'Hello Dean, sorry I haven't written lately, but you see, I was attacked by Death Eaters and we had to go into hiding. Then Harry was missing, so… Oh you remember Harry, right? Your roommate, the one I've been obsessed with since the day I was born. So, you understand, I've been a bit distracted…'

Ginny sighed to herself. She began to write:

Dear Dean,

I've missed you…

_Knock. Knock._ "Gin, are you awake?"

Harry, of course, that boy had some timing. Quickly, she folded up her parchment and hid it under her pillow. "Yeah, come on in."

Harry entered shyly, closing the door behind him and sitting down across from her on Hermione's carefully rumpled, but entirely unused bed.

"Some day, eh?" he said, tapping his palms together nervously.

"Yeah," she said inanely, sitting up. Harry Potter was in her room, with the door closed…and they were alone…and she had just been writing a letter to her almost-boyfriend. Ginny was surprised that she could speak at all.

"Yeah and Ron still managed to transfigure our beds into the four poster variety. 'Drana actually had to enlarge the room so they would fit."

"Really?" Ron's sudden skill at Transfiguration was getting more interesting by the hour. Though to be truthful, it was making more and more sense to Ginny. Ron had always been a tad intimidated by Harry and Hermione and he tended to react to that sort of competition by giving up. It was the lazy way, plus it left less room for outright failure and rejection.

In fact, Ron had been the youngest Weasley child to show magical ability. Ginny remembered overhearing her Mum and Dad whispering about his potential when she was younger.

"Em hmm, don't you think it's a bit odd that Ron can do these things easily? I mean, Hermione couldn't even do it. I tried to transfigure my bed and it collapsed in a lump. Ron fixed it."

"Actually, now that I think about it," Ginny said carefully, "it makes rather a lot of sense, given what Bill and Charlie said about why Adrianna can do that magic." Harry looked at her skeptically. "It's just that he…he's always been really aware of the things we don't have and really appreciative of nice things. During first year he'd write letters about how soft the beds were and how smooth the sheets are. He always noticed stuff like that."

Harry frowned. "He never said anything."

"He doesn't want you to know how much it bothers him, being poor, I mean."

"Oh," was all he could say.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable again, Ginny rushed to change the subject. "So did you come to my room in the middle of the night just to discuss Ron's magical prowess?" Oh god, that sounded suggestive, she needed to…. "Or are you just avoiding the love birds, or should I say the rehearsing love birds."

Harry laughed, making Ginny relax. "Well, I did figure," he responded, "that if I stayed away a bit, when I came back I could just pretend they were just sleeping behind those Imperturbled curtains."

"Good thinking."

Harry looked nervous; his hands were tapping again. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

'Me?' she wanted to ask, but knew she'd sound like that silly little girl she kept trying to convince people she wasn't. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath Harry reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Tentatively, he held it in his outstretched palm.

"The watch," Ginny breathed, shifting to the edge of the bed and leaning over to look at it more closely.

Harry kept his eyes on the watch as he talked. "It's odd. It was as though it called to me. Directing me to take it and hide it, to not tell anyone."

"Except me?" Ginny asked in a light, joking way. Inside she felt anything but casual about the new trust Harry was placing in her.

He smiled guiltily. "Yeah, it seems so."

Act normal. She knew how to handle herself. "What's inside?"

Harry shook his head. "Dunno. I can't seem to open it."

Ginny pressed her tongue to her top lip, deciding. She bit her lip. "Can I see it?"

Harry nodded, extending his hand even further toward her. Ginny stood, reaching out her arm. She felt it acutely. First the tips of her fingers made contact with his palm. Then the cool gold touched her skin, and then… nothing was cold.

The first thing Ginny noticed was a warm tingling sensation radiating from the watch. She tried to pull away, but couldn't, then she didn't want to because an intensely pleasurable sensation shot up her arm. She vaguely noticed that their hands were glowing.

Ginny's snapped her eyes to Harry's as the pleasure filled her body and saw him gasp as he stared at her wide eyed. The sensation crested and faded. When she was finally able to withdraw her hand from the watch she did so slowly and was surprised to find she had taken it with her.

Suddenly her legs couldn't hold her. She collapsed onto the bed next to Harry. He shifted uncomfortably and leaned forward onto his knees. He took deep breaths before turning to look at her. "What the bloody hell was that?"

Had his eyes always been so intense, so green? Oh god, she was aroused… and he was expecting a response. All she could manage was to shake her head. She looked down at the object cradled in her palm. "Harry, it's open."

He leaned closer, making the throbbing she felt even keener. Ginny forced herself to look at the watch. She flipped it fully open. The base held three faces, one for the month, the day, and the time. On the underside of the cover was a year. "June 15, 1507, eleven- twelve in the morning," she read aloud. "Does that mean anything to you?"

Harry shook his head. "I think we should tell Adrianna in the morning. I shouldn't have…. It could be dangerous."

Tell Adrianna. They probably should, but somehow choosing her as the only person they told made Ginny nervous. "And Charlie…is that ok?"

He hesitated, but nodded. They sat in silence for long minutes before Harry said, "I reckon we should get to bed, we have to get up early and…I'm really drowsy now for some reason."

Now that he mentioned it, so was Ginny. "Yeah, all right, see you in the morning."

He smiled shyly as he left the room.

It wasn't until he was gone that she realized that he had left the pocket watch behind. She didn't know why, but she closed it and hid it in the bottom drawer before collapsing into bed.

Ginny was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

* * *

"Ron, do you think they're in love?" 

Ron felt like he had been kicked in the gut. Never in his life had he had a discussion about love, never mind being 'in love.' It was a frightening topic, one he had avoided even contemplating.

But here he was, with Hermione looking up at him with those beautiful, expectant chocolate brown eyes, all soft and vulnerable and somehow it had never been this terrifying. What was she expecting of him? What did she want? He wished she'd just tell him what to say.

Just hearing the words 'in love' tumble from her lips made his heart squeeze, his stomach turn, something deep inside move….he really wasn't ready to contemplate what it was…Oh, god…it was Hermione, he couldn't put into words what he felt for her at the moment. He couldn't. He really didn't want to.

"I dunno," Ron croaked. "What do you think?"

They weren't touching any more. He had stepped away, but they were still close enough that Hermione had to tip her head back to look at him. "I'm not sure. I think they may be, or were at one point, or one of them…there's an intimacy, you know?"

Hermione bit her lip. Ron was having a really hard time remembering who she was talking about. Oh right, Charlie and Adrianna. Who cares anyway if they're in love? Why were they messing with his relationship…friendship with Hermione by making her talking about…_things_.

Was this even about Charlie and Adrianna? Because it really didn't feel like it.

Now Hermione was looking extremely vulnerable. What was he supposed to do now? He wanted to take her back into his arms, but he felt as though he couldn't. Would it mean something if he did? If he didn't? Did it matter? He couldn't think straight.

Hermione was looking at him, waiting for a response. He shook his head, hoping that would be some sort of answer to the question he forgot.

She sighed, crossing her arms and walking away from him, to sit on the bed he had transfigured just a little while ago. He'd been so proud of what he did. He wanted her to be proud as well.

"Can't you feel it? The tension between them?" she asked.

Was she still talking about Adrianna and Charlie? He took a deep breath and sat next to her, careful not to touch her. "Is…is that what love looks like?" he forced the words out, through a constricted throat.

Her response was annoyed. "I don't know, Ronald, that's why I asked 'do you think they are in love?'"

Great, now he was in trouble. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his pajama bottoms. "I…I dunno…I don't reckon I know anything about being in love…what it looks like…what it feels like. It's not something…I just dunno, Hermione."

He was the stupidest bloody idiot in the entire world and he was sure that Hermione knew it. Ron closed his eyes in shame.

Hermione's voice drifted to him softly. "I don't suppose anyone really knows about being in love until they are." Her voice was thick, but strangely emotionless. "They say you just know."

Ron's eyes snapped to hers. "That's completely daft!" he bit angrily, not understanding why he was so upset. "If…if you…if someone doesn't know what love means how the hell are they supposed to know if they're in it? It's just a word, Hermione. If you don't know the definition, you can't apply it…. You could be in love all along and…." His tirade sputtered and slowed, his heart beating quickly. "You might not know it."

Hermione searched his face, sighing softly. "I suppose that's true." He watched her swallow, transfixed.

Then a horrible thought occurred to him. "How do you know about being in love if you've never been?" he accused.

She turned her head away, making dread and jealousy fill him. "I reckon I don't," she said. She almost seemed teary. She stood. "Maybe I should sleep in my own bed tonight."

"What!" he roared, feeling as though he'd been kicked in the stomach, again. She paused but wouldn't look at him. Ron felt hurt…betrayed even. "That's not fair, Hermione. What did I do? You know I can't sleep without you. You know I need you. Why…" Ron turned away, disgusted with himself.

He felt her take his hand. He looked over and she smiled softly at him. "Let's just go to bed then." Hermione climbed into bed and used her wand to turn off the candles.

Ron hesitantly followed her and pulled the curtains down, cloaking them in darkness. He lay down on his back. Not one part of him touched her. Why did he make a bigger bed again?

"You did a nice job with the bed," he heard her whisper.

Ron smiled. "Thanks."

"Night, Ron."

"Night."

He stared at the top of the canopy, no hope of actually sleeping. Hermione's original question haunted him for some reason. Were Charlie and Adrianna in love?

He knew nothing of love, but he knew that Charlie cared for Adrianna. His brother said he once knew her as well as Ron knew Harry and Hermione. Did Charlie feel for Adrianna what he felt for Hermione? Whatever the hell that was.

And why had Adrianna left. Shite, if Hermione ever left him, he'd…

A horrible, restless desperation filled him. "Hermione?" he called.

"Mmm," he heard from the other side of the bed.

"You know, about Adrianna and Charlie…you won't ever leave, right? Because I wouldn't…. Just tell me if you want to leave or if you need something…we'll work it out or something…anything…anything you need. Just don't leave, ok?"

"Ron," she almost sobbed his name. He felt her fumbling for his hand and he grasped it firmly, holding on for dear life.

"Promise," he commanded.

"Ok…yeah, I promise."

Ron reached for her urgently in the dark. He found her face and felt relief; he cupped her jaw and felt her tears. He pressed his lips to hers with no small amount of desperation. Not like the previous desperation born of passion or lust…this desperation came from someplace deeper…darker…unseen.

He kissed her tenderly, slowly and open mouthed and she responded in kind. Ron poured every once of emotion that he couldn't name into that kiss. Feeling her tongue against his, feeling the insistent pressure of her lips and the taste of her tears, he knew that she was feeling some semblance of the turmoil and need that he felt.

It was all too much.

Hermione pulled away sniffing and he rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, resting his forehead against hers, willing her to understand what she meant to him, even if he didn't understand himself.

She sighed and gave an almost laugh, embracing him and laying her cheek on his chest. Ron relaxed, rolling onto his back and taking her with him. He stroked her hair and kissed her crown.

They didn't speak. Eventually they slept. Before he succumbed, Ron allowed himself to question, just once….

Is _this_ what it felt like to be in love?

* * *

It was the strangest dream that Harry had ever had, which was saying something. For one thing, he'd never been so acutely aware that he was _having_ a dream. 

He was in a castle…but not Hogwarts, somewhere else. There were house elves, in very fine matching blue and green towels. They were dressing him… in tights! He realized he was dressed in some sort of medieval crap. When he tried to look closer, he realized that he wasn't in control of his body. The man he was in the dream was lacing up his shirt, but Harry couldn't stop him from doing it.

Then a house elf held up a mirror and Harry understood why. He wasn't Harry. He was someone else; someone with brown hair, brown eyes and a beard.

An elf added an embroidered cream colored robe to his shoulders and the mirror addressed him. "You look very handsome, Lord Alexi. Quite fitting."

Only he wasn't addressed in English, it was…Russian? Maybe. The odd part was that somehow Harry understood it.

A man entered, a wizard perhaps, in long, heavily embroidered and jewel-encrusted blue and green robes. He looked like the man in the mirror, but older. The man greeted him with a proud smile and a clasp of the shoulder. "My son, you do your family proud today," he said in the same unfamiliar language.

Harry felt nervous…no, this man, Alexi, felt nervous. Harry was just along for the ride.

"Come, you must meet your bride."

And Harry understood why he felt nervous. Suddenly he knew, actually had the knowledge, that this would be the first time he would meet this woman and that today was his wedding day.

Why was he just nervous? He should be terrified.

Harry was lead out of the castle where the grounds were a sea of witches and wizards. He hadn't seen so many people since the Triwizard tournament. They were all here for a wedding?

He and his…father came to the front of the group of people, in the upper corner. In the opposite corner appeared a witch in embroidered cream robes identical to his own and wearing a heavy veil. She was also walking next to an older wizard.

As they approached each other, Harry could feel this man's fear, his trepidation. He felt Alexi's desire to turn and run. His hands shook as he walked toward the witch and he hid his hands in his robes. Then they were together in front of an altar and Alexi held his breath as her father lifted his bride's veil and uncovered her face.

All the breath left him.

The woman…no, girl, she couldn't be more than Harry's age, had long, soft strawberry-blond hair and clear blue eyes. Harry had never seen someone so beautiful. No… that was Alexi's thought, not Harry's. Though Harry thought she was…nice looking, very nice looking. There was something achingly familiar behind her eyes, which seemed to draw him in.

Now he was overwhelmed by Alexi's feelings of relief… of lust… of sheer happiness. Harry felt his face curve into a smile as he enthusiastically took her soft hands.

The girl smiled back shyly and blushed. She seemed pleased.

Alexi didn't take his eyes off of her for the entire ceremony. She kept glancing down bashfully, though, and Harry couldn't quite study that…that thing he saw in her eyes.

Harry learned that his full name was Alexander and that she...she was Helana. The ceremony was in still another language, but nevertheless, Harry understood.

All Alexi could think of was getting to kiss Helana… and oh…oh! Shite those were dirty thoughts he was hearing.

She did seem to have nice breasts.

But blimey, this man was a perv; she was like…Ginny's age. Alexi seemed obsessed with the wedding night. Harry could feel the arousal and he hoped that the dream lasted until the wedding night.

Shite, now he was the perv.

The ceremony was over and Alexi leaned down to kiss Helana with no little enthusiasm. The simple brush of lips was electrifying and Harry had never felt anything like it. Maybe this was just what it was like to kiss a girl who wasn't crying.

The cheers were deafening. Helena was smiling broadly and Alexi melted. Harry caught that look again….

There was a knocking, which didn't make sense since they were outside on the grounds. Then someone was calling his name…'Harry'… not 'Alexi.' They were insisting that he wake up.

Harry didn't want to stir. He wanted to see more of the dream. He wanted to talk to the girl. Pervert that he was he wanted to know more about this wedding night business…

But it was too late and the dream was fading…he was rousing. Harry's eyes opened.

Ron was already up and pulling on his jogging pants. "Better get a move on, mate. Your cousin's a real slave driver. Good thing Hermione's up at dawn, eh?"

Harry just nodded, barely listening, and got up to pull on his own jogging pants and t-shirt. Ron slipped out to the loo and Harry picked up the pace. He needed to talk to Ginny…before they talked to Adrianna and Charlie.

Rushing down the stairs he almost ran into the very person he sought. Ginny looked disheveled and distracted. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Looking up at him, she determinedly grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him into the drawing room.

"Harry," she whispered, her eyes wild. "We need to talk before we tell the others." She licked her lips. "I had the strangest dream."

* * *

Author's Note: If you'd like to read the NC-17 version, click on my "homepage" on my profile page and it will take you to Checkmated where you can apply for the bedchamber. Thanks. 


	21. Chapter Twenty One

* * *

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

This version has been modified from the original NC-17 version, housed at Specifically, explicatives have been modified and sexual situations made less explicit. Any large changes will be pointed out in author's notes. Thank you and enjoy.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Twenty-One

* * *

**

When Harry stumbled into breakfast with his three friends, he was exhausted, drained, and exhilarated. He had forgotten how good it felt to clear one's mind, focus all one's excess emotions into physical activity, and just pound it out.

The clarity was bloody brilliant, and the ache in his muscles reminded him that he had accomplished something. He was making himself stronger. From the groans echoing from either side of him, as Ginny and Hermione sat down at the kitchen table, Harry gathered that they felt somewhat differently. At least Ron was grinning wearily.

It was hard to believe that Ron didn't enjoy himself after he had challenged Harry to a push-up war that left them both jelly armed for the rest of the morning. Harry had the suspicion that at least some of Ron's tenacity at their competition (which Ron won by the way) was due to a desire to impress a certain bushy haired best mate that they shared. And though Harry would have expected the eye rolling from Hermione, he was surprised and more than a little bit disturbed at the admiration that lurked in her all too warm gaze.

Well, Hermione always did admire tenacity. Harry grinned to himself and earned a questioning look from Ginny.

"Don't look so smug," she whispered to him. "We're all going to be suffering for the rest of the day. You don't think she's going to go easy on us in the magical training, do you? Blimey, this is worse than Hogwarts." She muttered the last bit into a piece of toast that she hungrily shoved into her mouth.

'You should be glad it was that intense,' he wanted to tell Ginny, but did not dare. Honestly, he had no idea how the two of them would have been able to keep the watch and the dreams from Adrianna if it hadn't been. It was ironic that she was teaching them the very techniques that were helping them deceive her.

Harry just thanked Merlin that the minute they had walked into the ballroom-turned-training room, they began mental exercises to clear their minds, exercises that Harry had already learned and was hence relatively proficient at. From there they progressed to grueling physical training that left little room for ponderings.

But still… why hadn't Adrianna discovered their secrets yet? Maybe she already had and just wasn't saying anything.

Overall, she was different now that they were at Grimmauld Place. Things were easier before. Harry had gotten used to his cousin's constant attention. She was always reading his thoughts. He didn't even need to talk if he didn't want to. He just knew that she knew. It was comforting to be unburdened of his darkest thoughts and still be accepted.

Part of him wanted her to unburden him of the watch secret, even as he fought so hard to keep it from her. Why wasn't she listening to his thoughts right now?

It was all Charlie's fault.

That was when 'Drana changed; became distracted. Charlie was pulling her focus away from Harry, he just knew it. The way he was hovering around her all the time, involving himself in all their lessons. Didn't he have his own life?

_Crack_. Oh, great, now Bill was here. Maybe they'd start telling private jokes and talking in tongues. In that moment, Harry took great pleasure in having a secret of his own.

"Hello," Bill called with far too much mirth, in Harry's opinion. "How's the almost-birthday girl? August 11 is only two days away." He kissed Ginny on the top of her head. "Wow, just about a teenager, huh?"

"I've been a teenager for two years, Bill," Ginny replied heatedly, visibly bristling at her being treated as the baby.

Bill ignored her, humming as he went over and pecked his mother on the cheek. "Morning, Mum."

"Morning, dear," she called, sipping her tea and looking at him, warily, over the ridge of her cup. "You've been coming around quite a bit lately."

He flashed a cheeky grin and sat at the table. "It's all that wonderful cooking."

Harry saw Ginny draw herself up before she spoke. "Oh, poor Bill, the twelve year old not a good cook?"

Oooo, paybacks a bitch, Bill, Harry thought with satisfaction. Teaming up with Ginny was certainly a good idea. Hacking her off clearly wasn't.

Adrianna choked on her coffee as she laughed at Ginny's barb. The approving glance she sent Ginny's way did not go unnoticed by Bill who turned to glare at Adrianna. "She is _not_ twelve…this is your fault, you know," he accused.

She looked at him innocently. "My fault she can't cook or my fault she's twelve?"

Ginny laughed and Bill started to bite out a reply, but Adriana's laughter faded and she narrowed her eyes at Bill, looking at him intently. He flinched knowing something was coming and it wasn't good. "She's a veela!" she accused. "A veela!"

Bill looked a bit frightened. "How did you know that? You need touch to read minds."

"Not any more I don't, and you changed the subject."

"Yeah, Bill," Ginny grinned. "Please, tell us more about your twelve-year-old veela."

"She's not twelve and she's not...she's only part veela," he defended.

"Her grandmother was a veela," Ron supplied. "Oww!" he exclaimed, rubbing his leg, and causing everyone to stare at him. "I must have bit my tongue," he muttered sneaking a glance at Hermione.

His non-girlfriend had her chin up. "She does have veela powers. Isn't that right, Ronald?"

Ron nodded rapidly. "Yeah, she can bewitch you, that one can. Make you do things you _never_ would." He smiled broadly at Hermione, then looked over and gave Bill an apologetic look.

"Thanks," Bill gritted at his younger brother.

"Well, now that it's come up, I've found Fleur to be…" Hermione started carefully.

"Rude," Ginny supplied.

"Well, I was thinking more of…"

"Snobbish," Ginny smiled with even more glee. Bill really should have remembered she was a teenager.

"Yes," Hermione agreed in a contemplative way. "But also…"

"Shallow, self…"

"That's enough Ginevra," Molly told her daughter firmly. "Bill," she asked sweetly. "Exactly how old is Fleur?"

Harry knew it was horrible of him to enjoy this so much, but oh well.

"She's twenty, Mum. And she doesn't use her powers on me."

There were three sets of feminine harrumphs around the table, from all but Adrianna, who instead said pointedly. "She's too young for you."

Molly turned her disapproving eyes on Adrianna. "And that is none of your business, young lady." Bill didn't have a chance to smile in triumph when she continued, her eyes on her eldest. "That _is_ too young for you, Bill."

The accused looked to Charlie who had his eyes firmly locked on his eggs. "A little help here?"

Charlie shrugged. "Against those four, I don't think so. You're on your own."

"Coward," Bill muttered, turning to Adrianna, who he seemed to think was the instigator. It was true that no one had ever blatantly spoken against Fleur until Adrianna arrived. "You haven't even met Fleur, for all you know she could be…" he trailed off with a gesture that in appeared Adrianna was supposed to fill in for herself.

Apparently she did, because she gave him a skeptical look and said, "Please."

The unspoken communication was too much for Harry and he threw his fork down with a clatter. "Would you please stop doing that!"

There was a pregnant pause before Charlie sighed and said, "Adrianna can tell if two people are soul mates just by seeing them together."

"Charlie," 'Drana growled with a look that could kill. "You know what happens when you tell people that."

Ginny and Hermione were staring at her transfixed, a mixture of fear and longing on their faces, while Ron was looking anywhere but at Hermione.

"You mean you can tell who our soul mates are?" Ginny asked carefully.

"Just by seeing two people together?" Hermione sounded strangely breathless. Harry was beginning to understand Adrianna's apprehension.

"See what you've done," she spat at Charlie, and then sighed. "I don't actually have to see them together; I just need to have met both of them."

"Since when?" Bill asked incredulously, for the second time today.

"Japan." Her reply was a little too loud. "Do you see the trouble you've caused?"

Bill smiled roguishly, clearly enjoying the opportunity to pay Adrianna back and get the focus off his relationship. "Not as much trouble as it would be if they knew how easy it was to get the information out of you." He laughed as a bit of bacon bounced off his forehead.

Adrianna was clearly flustered as she stared at her plate and studiously filled her mouth with food.

Mrs. Weasley's eyes were alert with interest. "I don't understand. If you had that information why wouldn't you share it?" Visions of wedding bells and grandchildren danced quite obviously in Mrs. Weasley's eyes.

Adrianna shook her head, a sour look on her face. "The information is dangerous. I can tell you that you and your husband are soul mates, because you've been married for over thirty some odd years. But what if you had known when you were sixteen? How would it have changed you? Would it have ruined things because you felt forced into it, or because the intensity and the forever of it was too much? Or would it have been too easy? Maybe it would have made you compliant, so that you never really learned to appreciate each other, took away all the struggles that were necessary to build the character needed for a long healthy relationship. And what if you knew I had this power, but you weren't soul mates and you asked and I didn't answer? Then you assume, correctly, that you are not soul mates and a happy thirty year marriage falls apart."

She looked miserably into her food and dropped her fork. Molly had watched her calmly and thoughtfully throughout her last speech.

Charlie broke the tension in the room by continuing to explain, softly, "Most people never find their soul mates. They can still have very fulfilling relationships." Then he muttered into his food, "At least that's what they say."

"Adrianna." Harry's eyes were pulled to his right as Hermione very seriously leaned forward and inquired as if she were asking a question in class, "Can you see _your_ soul mate?"

There was more than one sharp intake of breath, as 'Drana's eyes snapped to hers. "No," she said shortly. "I can't see myself, so it doesn't work."

Charlie seemed to be having trouble swallowing as well and he pushed his plate away. They were all going to get indigestion at this rate.

Bill cleared his throat. "On a more pleasant note, I actually came here bearing gifts. A friend of mine has offered me his flat in Nice for a week as a bit of a returned favor as you will. As my 'twelve year old girlfriend' hates the feel of those little pebbles under her feet, I thought Mum and Dad might like to go instead."

"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley had a surprised look on her face as she looked over at her husband.

Mr. Weasley, who had been awfully quiet during the whole meal, smiled carefully at his son, "That's very thoughtful of you, Bill."

"I just figured that you two haven't taken a trip alone in years," Bill explained. "The Portkey is all arranged for August 10, tomorrow afternoon."

"Well, that's lovely!" Molly's hand flew to her chest. She was clearly touched. Then her eyes narrowed, just a tad. "What's this all about, Bill?" Her eyes darted to Adrianna when she asked the question.

But Adrianna was looking at him with suspicion as well. The intensity of her gaze showed that she was reading him.

"Nothing, Mum, I just thought it would be pleasant…and I thought it would be nice if her big brother threw Miss Ginny a Birthday party."

Ginny's eyes lit up and Harry's stomach dropped. He didn't want Ginny's friends coming over and distracting her as well. He needed her.

"Can I invite my…?" she started to ask.

She was cut off by simultaneous "no"s from both her parents and Bill.

"Sorry, Gin," Bill said. "It's too dangerous to invite people not in the Order to Grimmauld Place."

"And even if it weren't…" Molly gave her a pointed look. "You would not be inviting that so called boyfriend of yours, young lady."

Boyfriend? Who said she had a boyfriend?

"Dean…" Ginny started.

Shite, Dean. Harry had forgotten about him.

"Is absolutely not coming," Mrs. Weasley finished firmly.

Ginny was irate. "Then exactly who is coming to my birthday party?'

"Fred, George, Alicia, Angelina…" Bill said and Ginny pouted. Seemed like good choices to Harry. "Fleur."

"She's not in the Order," Ginny exclaimed, but her protest was largely ignored, despite being a legitimate point.

"Don't fight that one, Ginny," Adrianna said with a gleam in her eye. "I _really_ want to meet this Flower person."

Ginny matched her grin. Harry almost felt sorry for Bill.

* * *

By mid afternoon Hermione was feeling drained and, to be perfectly honest, a bit on the exhausted side. Her muscles ached and her head throbbed from the strain. Training with Adrianna was intense, but mostly Hermione found it exhilarating. What was making her head pound was the stress of maintaining her focus on training while still taking careful stock of her two teacher's interactions.

That and the strain of keeping her focus off a certain tall redhead who looked devilishly handsome when he was concentrating. His forehead would bead with sweat and his jaw got this determined set when he was trying something new. When he threw Harry across the room with the force of one of his shields it had been…well, downright sexy.

See! That's what she was talking about. It was darn near impossible to keep up with it all!

Regardless of all the distractions, Hermione was quite proud of what she had managed to accomplish today. She could now do the wandless Accio charm without difficulty; she could perform the NEWT level shield charm, and was well on her way to learning the more powerful shield that they were currently being taught. And, more importantly, she had gleaned some very useful information about Adrianna from an extremely interesting interaction she had had with Charlie earlier that day.

Charlie had been standing behind Adrianna as she was instructing Ginny, when he had suddenly accused. "You're blocking me! Aren't you?"

Blocking out what, exactly, was the question that Hermione was still pondering. As far as she could tell, Charlie had just been standing there. Had he been trying to communicate with the Empath?

But Adrianna's response had been even more revealing, when she had snapped at him, "Yes, Charlie, I am. I've been blocking out mostly everyone, recently. It's the only way to maintain my goddamned sanity in this place. Between the hostility, the teenage angst, and the raging hormones…"

Hermione had blushed a bit at that.

"You could never block me in the past," Charlie had protested.

"Yes, well, that was why I was _sent_ to Japan, wasn't it?"

The emphasis on 'sent' was also interesting and Hermione tucked that clue away. After careful observation of the Empath for the remained of the morning Hermione had come to the conclusion that Adrianna was only reading the thoughts of the person she was directly instructing. Which, of course, was extremely useful information.

It meant that Hermione could get away with a lot more than she originally thought she would be able to get away with. It was a simple matter of watching Adrianna when she wasn't watching her and if the woman moved her focus to Hermione then Hermione would look over at Ron and let all other thought flow out of her mind. It was working splendidly, actually, even though it had been difficult to pull herself back to focus on the spells again.

As she watched, Ron created a perfect shield. It shimmered blue-green in front of him. Hermione smiled as she watched the emotions flow over his face. Surprise, then boyish delight and humble pride, leaving him with a half smile that she wanted to kiss off his face.

God, she loved him so much. Was he ever going to love her like that? Hermione thought about the discussion of love the night before. It had never been more obvious that he wasn't ready to be in love…and while she was disappointed, there had been something more.

Being with him felt so right. As if it was meant to be. As if…maybe they were soul mates. The phrase had been haunting her all day, just one more distraction to cloud her mind.

Soul mates. Until today it had been merely a romantic idea. Just like before she got her Hogwarts letter, when magic was still the stuff of fairy tales. And now…she wanted Ron to be her soul mate. The idea that it might be someone else turned her stomach.

It bothered her more than she could express that Adrianna knew. Knew without a doubt if Ron was the one she was meant to be with and was not about to tell Hermione. Although she understood the wisdom of that, it drove her crazy.

"Hermione, you're not concentrating."

Dammit! Hermione turned to Adrianna beside her. She'd missed the Empath coming over.

"Here, hold out your wand. All the worry and frustration you're feeling, use that," Adrianna instructed. "Yes, and the resentment, too. Your passion and focus are your greatest strengths, use them. Imagine yourself thrusting those feelings away from yourself and say the spell."

Hermione did as she was instructed and created the blue-green shield. She smiled at the sight.

"Feel better?" Adrianna asked.

She did; she felt lighter. The throbbing in her head had lessened. "Yeah, thanks."

"Well done, Hermione," Mr. Weasley said in an impressed tone as he walked into the ballroom, taping a stack of letters in his hand. Hermione wished he had come a few minutes earlier and seen Ron's shield.

"What you got there, dad?" Charlie called.

"Hogwarts letters…OWL results," Mr. Weasley replied. Hermione went rigid; she could feel the tension in the room heighten. "Bit late this year. Quite a controversy. Seems OWL marks were significantly lower than usual. In particular, in Defense Against Dark Arts a small portion of students excelled and the rest…well lets just say there were very few OWLS given out in that subject. The parents on the education board were furious, blaming Fudge for assigning Umbridge. In the end, they couldn't do anything about the marks, but there will be more than a few curriculum adjustments this year…"

Yes, yes this was all very interesting, but…

Hermione couldn't stand it anymore. "Mr. Weasley could we just…" She all but tore the letters out of his hand and hurriedly distributed them. She ripped her own open with trembling hands.

She quickly pocketed her prefect's badge and paused, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before looking at the results. She let the air out in a puff. O… O… O… O…A! Oh, well, that was Divination. Considering she hadn't taken the class in almost two years, she supposed that was to be expected.

She looked up to see Harry grinning broadly. "How'd it go, Harry?" she asked.

"Nine OWLs," he said, proudly handing his letter to Adrianna. It occurred to Hermione that this was the first time he had someone to share his good marks with. To say it meant a lot to him was an understatement.

His cousin smiled at him and took the letter. "That's great, Harry!" She then looked guiltily at Charlie, whispering, "What does that mean?"

Charlie laughed and went up behind her to explain the scoring system. "These are really good, Harry," he remarked. "Even an 'O' in potions."

Harry beamed, even brighter. "What about you, Hermione?"

"Twelve," she replied, trying not to sound to full of herself.

"Twelve!" Ron exclaimed. "You only took ten classes. I know you took the Muggle Studies exam…" He grabbed at her letter. "You passed Divination? Why'd you even take the test?"

"I only got an 'A'" she defended, grabbing the letter back.

"Well, I took the class and I got a 'P,'" he said sourly.

Hermione felt dread fill her, and an anxiety that she hadn't felt about her own marks. The look on his face was not good. He was awfully pale. She didn't want to think about what it would be like if his scores were bad.

She carefully took his letter out of his limp hand, noting with some relief that he was holding his prefect's badge. Looking at the letter she grinned. "Ron this is great! Eight OWLs!" She ignored the yells of congratulations. "'O's in Defense and Magical Creatures. 'A' in Astrology…which isn't fair, since the examination was so badly interrupted."

"Didn't affect you, did it?" he muttered.

"…And 'E's in everything else. This is fantastic!" Hermione could feel herself almost bouncing with excitement. She wanted to kiss him, but knew she couldn't. She squeezed his arm…later.

"'E' in potions," Harry said softly, in a dejected tone. Hermione looked up, confused.

"Yeah," Ron confirmed.

Why was that…? Oh. _Oh_.

"Looks like you two will be suffering through Snape without me," Ron gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I reckon I won't have to finish my summer potions essay."

"Why not?" Adrianna asked, frowning.

"Snape only allows students who get an 'O' in potions into his sixth year class," Harry explained, softly.

Her frown deepened, but she didn't comment. Adrianna handed Harry back his letter, complimenting him again. Then she called an end to their training for the day and walked off with Mr. Weasley to 'discuss something.'

Hermione only caught Ron's back as he ascended the stairs. Her brow furrowed as she looked around the now almost empty room. "Where'd Ginny go?" she asked Harry.

He shrugged and gestured to the stairs. He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets. "Suppose we'd better…you take Ron, I'll take Ginny?"

Hermione nodded absently as Harry ascended the stairs. When had that become the natural choice?

Harry would take Ginny and Hermione would take Ron.

* * *

Ron closed his bedroom door quietly behind him, tossing his letter and his badge carelessly on the night table. He sat down on the edge of the bed and let himself fall backwards, so he could contemplate the ceiling.

He wasn't sure why he was so depressed. Ron had actually done better than he'd expected on the OWLs. Better than anyone had expected…he'd seen that look on Hermione's face, the look that said she feared he'd failed miserably.

Maybe it was just this strange bliss that he'd been living in over the last few days. Being able to do these complicated spells…it had given him a false sense of confidence, and being so…_happy_ with Hermione. He'd allowed himself to think maybe, just maybe he was worthy. Maybe he was good enough to be Hermione Granger's boyfriend.

He was a complete and utter idiot. But that was the point, wasn't it?

"Ron," he heard from the hallway.

Go away, Hermione, he screamed in his head.

"It's me."

'It's me.' It's the brilliant beautiful girl that represents everything he'd ever wanted but could never have. The one who got twelve OWLs after taking only ten classes.

"Go away, Hermione," he called back, though he wasn't at all sure he was all that convincing.

"I'm coming in."

Great, she should just do that. He really needed his torment driven home.

Ron didn't move at all as she quietly entered the room and closed the door. He didn't turn and look at her. What was the point anyway? It was all so hopeless.

He felt the bed shift, then saw her lean into his field of vision as she knelt by his head.

"Ron, what's wrong?"

He offered only a grunt in response. How he wished she'd leave him alone.

"Ron, you really did quite well on your OWLs. Eight out of nine is quite good…."

Yeah, but Harry got nine out of nine and Hermione got twelve out of ten. And the bloody prat she was probably going to marry one day would most likely get thirteen god damned OWLs, even if there were only twelve ruddy tests. He'd probably get another one created just for him. The pansy arse.

"Ron, are you listening?"

No! He was mentally pummeling Hermione's future fictional husband. Couldn't she leave him in peace?

She cupped his face in her small, perfect hands and forced him to look at her. "Look at me. You. Did. Well."

"Better than you expected, you mean," he muttered, forcibly looking away.

"Oh, stop being ridiculous. What's gotten into you? Pouting that your good marks aren't good enough. Isn't that my role?"

That forced a wry chuckle out of him and he glanced over to see her smiling down at him. "Is this about being an Auror?" she asked.

Ron looked away again, shrugging.

"Honestly, Ron," she said carefully. "I'm…a little, well, glad that you won't be training to be an Auror."

His eyes narrowed back at her. "Because I'm not good enough, because I'll never make it?"

"No!" she replied sternly. "No, I'm sure you'd be a fantastic Auror. It's just… I'd prefer you to do something more…'

"Appropriate for my intelligence."

"Argh! What nonsense! You are plenty smart enough. Something more _safe_ is what I was going to say."

He looked at his feet.

"I kind of fancy you alive and well and not at all like Mad-Eyed," her tone turned playful and he couldn't keep his eyes from her smiling face. "See, I fancy those legs of yours whole and I like your eyes the way they are and…." She ran a hand down his cheek. "It would be a shame to scar up such a face." She was trying to be light but her voice quivered just a touch.

"But it's ok for Harry?" Ron asked softly.

Hermione shrugged. "Harry's already scarred beyond repair."

An incredulous laugh bubbled out of him. "I'm going to tell him you said that," he teased.

"Not if you fancy your life you won't," she said with a mock primness that dissolved into a smile.

Ron turned over on his side and offered her a small smile in return. She laid down facing him and kissed his forehead. They stared at each other for long moments. He didn't understand why she was there. Why she kept bothering with him.

Feeling selfish, but needing the contact, he moved one hand to softly rest on her hip.

"Tell me," she commanded softly.

And in that moment he could deny her nothing. He sighed, "I reckon I just thought that the Auror thing could be my thing, you know. The thing that sets me apart."

At her look of confusion he flipped onto his back and continued. "The other day we were talking about Percy and why he was such a git. Adrianna said he was like this because all the good identities were taken, because choosing to live the way he does means he doesn't have to live in his brother's shadows. I reckon I thought that if I were an Auror I wouldn't be in anyone's shadow anymore, either. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Yeah, actually it is."

His eyes snapped to hers. He hadn't expected her to openly agree with him.

"You don't live in your brothers' shadows. You have your own identity."

He scoffed. "Really, what am I that's so special? Bill is the handsome, smart code breaker, Charlie's the dragon tamer, Percy's the ministry git, second to the Minister of Magic, Fred and George are the brilliantly successful businessmen and possibly the funniest wizards in Britain. What am I, Hermione? What am I?"

"You're the hero."

He laughed mirthlessly and resumed his staring at the ceiling.

"Your brothers haven't faced down three headed dogs, giant spiders, and an enchanted chess set. They didn't willfully face their fears to stand by their friends in the forbidden forest, the caves to the chamber of secrets, the shrieking shack, and the Department of Mysteries? Have any of them ever stood up to a murderer, on a broken leg, no less, to save a friend's life? Because I seem to remember it was you."

"I was just following Harry," he muttered softly.

"No, you chose to go with Harry. Harry has to go, but you chose to. And you were the only one that Harry wanted with him at the Department of Mysteries. It's the choice that makes you brave. You go because it's the right thing to do, because you care about Harry and you go without any hope of getting the glory. That's why you're the hero."

Ron swallowed through a thickened throat. "I really appreciate that, Hermione, but everyone knows that Harry's the real hero."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh. "Fine, then Harry can be everybody else's hero, but you're _my_ hero…and don't even think about protesting. It's my decision, you know. I get to chose whoever I want."

There was nothing to do except kiss her at that point. Ron didn't really have the words to express what she meant to him, so he cradled her head in his hands and tried to show her with slow, wet, open-mouthed kisses exactly how much he treasured everything about her. He did what he could to worship her with his lips and tongue, because no matter what she said he was not worthy of her.

But Ron's attempts to fill her with emotion only served to overwhelm him with the same and he had to pull away before he fell apart with his pathetic-ness. He rolled onto his back and hugged her to him. He could feel her head on his chest raise and fall with each breath. He rested his chin on her head and took deep breaths, willing himself back to normalcy.

It wasn't long before he felt tiny peppered kisses along the underside of his jaw. Ron sighed, it felt so good. He allowed himself to relax as Hermione explored his neck, scarcely believing it was happening.

He felt her tongue touch his ear lobe and he gasped in shock. "Hermione?" He looked down at her face and to find a pleased, guilty smile. She bit her lip. "What has gotten into you today?" She really wasn't acting at all herself. She was a bit more…free… "It's those twelve OWLs, isn't it? You're positively giddy."

She giggled, confirming his suspicions. "I just think we both deserve a little reward. We did work _awfully_ hard."

Her playfulness may have been out of character, but it certainly wasn't unappreciated. Ron pushed all his dark thoughts away and dedicated himself to fully enjoying the experience. Oh, yeah, and _rewarding_ her.

He tilted her head back tenderly and lifted his so he could once again slide his lips over hers. He let out a frustrated groan when they wouldn't fit close enough, his neck not able to bend far enough. Cursing his freakish tallness, he wrapped both hands around her small waist and gently hauled her up, over his body, so that she was lying across his chest and their faces were level.

Mmmm. That was much better; he could tilt his head to fit his lips completely over hers. This way he could taste her entire mouth and get his fill of her wonderful Hermione taste. He loved the way the top of her mouth was silky and smooth but her tongue was like velvet and the way when she moaned so deep in her throat he could feel the vibrations.

Remembering something, Ron pulled back slightly and saying into her mouth, "We forgot the Imperturbable Charm."

Hermione shook her head, breathing harshly. "We need to hear them when they call us for dinner. We'll just need to be quiet."

That was a whole hell of a lot easier said then done when her tongue was in his mouth. He tried to control his groans and instead gripped her waist more tightly. His tongue battled hers for dominance. It occurred to him that this is what all their fighting over the years had been leading up to.

She wound her arms around his neck, slipping them between the bed and his skin, and causing her shirt to ride up, baring her waist to his touch. Without thought, Ron's hands wandered up the sides of her body. He paused in surprise as they accidentally brushed the sides of her breasts as they bulged out, having been crushed tightly against his chest.

Hermione hummed at the contact and gripped his hip. Ron couldn't help but smile into her mouth. She was so bloody fantastic.

Ron allowed himself to discover the sides of the swells that had been the object of his fantasies since the first night that he slept in her arms. He slipped his thumbs between their bodies to get better access. Worried that he might be taking advantage, he pulled back slightly to whisper, "Is this ok?"

Hermione sucked his tongue back into her mouth violently and he decided to take that as a yes. Ron enjoyed the taste of her for a few minutes more before setting himself to the task of getting to know her fabulous breasts. It only took him a few moments to become frustrated as he realized that their current position with her on top was not going to work for the task at hand.

Ron tried to move their position without interrupting the excellent snogging that was happening, but he rolled too quickly; it was fumbling and awkward…and the hand Hermione had clutching his hip wound up dragging across the place where he was throbbing against his jeans.

He bit back a groan and Hermione jumped. Ron's eyes rolled back into his head at the sensation. He was sure that his lip was bleeding he was biting it so hard. When his eyes came back into focus he saw Hermione sitting above him with a frightened look on her face.

"Ron, what was that?"

Shite. Way to ruin the moment. Now she was going to think he was a pervert; that he only wanted one thing. She was never going to let him touch her again. Feeling himself panic he tried a diversion, "What was what?"

That was pathetic, really. Wasn't it obvious what it was?

Hermione bit her lip, "By your leg. I thought I felt something…I _did_ feel something."

"Hermione? You don't know?" Ron didn't know what to say. He was going to have to explain to Hermione about the giant painful erection he was sporting because of her…and he would rather be thrown into a pit of giant spiders.

"Ron?" He watched her turn five shades of pink as the realization began to dawn. Her breathing changed and her chocolate eyes stared to the offending object with wide eyed shock. Unfortunately, his body didn't get the hint that it should be ashamed and it throbbed under her gaze. "I think I…just tell me, ok?"

He swallowed. He could feel the heat radiating off his neck and face. "Blimey, Hermione, It's my….you know….it's my…" he gestured frantically at his groin feeling more and more frustrated. Wasn't she supposed to be the genius around here? "Crikey, Hermione, I'm a sixteen year old boy, what do you think it is?" he asked more harshly then had intended.

When Hermione finally spoke it was in the smallest of voices. "Your… _penis_?"

Leave it to Hermione to use the most correct phraseology. Ron nodded.

"Is it always like that?"

Like what? Shite, could this get any worse? He was starting to feel nauseated. He shook his head in confusion, but mostly in denial that this was really happening to him.

She gestured to his erection again. "Is it always so…you know…so hard…so big…"

Ron actually started to choke. Did she mean lately, 'cause… "No…I mean, yes…I mean when you're around. No, no that's not what I mean. I mean when we're Practicing, it's generally like this. Damn, Hermione, I can't believe you haven't felt it before." He didn't know what he was saying; must be all the blood rushing away from his head.

It was Hermione's turn to stammer. "No, I didn't notice…Well, maybe I just didn't know what it was …um….I really make you….excited?"

Ron had to laugh at that one. She looked beautifully innocent sitting there and he was the big bad wolf coming to corrupt her. "Yeah, you certainly excite me."

She licked her lips again and looked back at the bulge in his jeans. Was she trying to kill him? "Does it hurt?"

Yes!

"Um, no. It's uncomfortable….but mostly it feels good." He shouldn't have said that.

"And you can't control it at all?'

"Not really."

"Oh."

"Ron?" she asked tentatively. "Would you mind, terribly if I… touched it?"

Could you laugh and choke at the same time? _No_! His mind screamed. If she touched him, he was done for. "Sure," he croaked.

Hermione nodded, with an intense look on her face, as if she were learning a particularly difficult wand motion…well she sort of was…. Her fingers brushed him and his hips jerked involuntarily. She withdrew her hand and looked at him with shocked eyes. "Show me?" she asked softly.

Something in her tone made his heart clench. She was just…Ron didn't have the words. When he took her trembling hand in his, the very air around them felt odd…sexual yet…something else. He pressed a kiss to her palm without thinking.

Ron took deep breaths to keep himself calm as he gently laid her hand, cupped under his over his erection.

He couldn't stand her touch for long before he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her hand away. She looked up at his surprised, "What?"

Ron didn't trust himself to speak so he pulled himself up, kneeling beside her. He pulled her wrist to her neck and used his other hand to bring her face back to his. He kissed her tenderly.

Which apparently was not what she had in mind. Hermione clawed at his hair and pulled his face closer, thrusting her tongue past his teeth. He moaned splaying both hands on her back as he crushed them together. Ron spread his legs so that she could kneel between them and they could be as close as clothing allowed. But it soon became apparent after a few minutes of frantic snogging that it was too close for Ron to maintain control.

How was a bloke to survive this sort of thing?

Ron carefully laid her back, once again moving her away from that offending bit of his anatomy. He hoped Hermione wouldn't realize why he was moving them. He couldn't take any more questions. He sucked on her tongue to distract her and it seemed to work.

Another long while later she pulled away, gasping for air. Ron was feeling that air was highly over rated and he began attacking her neck and he nipped at it lightly.

"Ron," she called huskily. "Don't leave a mark…not where you can see."

He smiled against her skin. "Does that mean I can leave a mark where it can't be seen?" Hermione's only response was a low humming in her throat. Holy shite, he had been joking.

Not one to let an opportunity pass him by, especially not when it came to this sort of thing, he kissed his way across her collar bone and moved her shirt aside to kiss her shoulder, then down just a bit…didn't want to press his luck, to the fleshy area below. He inhaled a bit of warm flesh and explored it with his tongue and teeth. He was going to mark her as his…

Ron couldn't believe this was happening. He looked down at her with heavy lids, admiring his handiwork. She looked so sexy lying there, eyes closed, curls spread, lips parted, shirt rumpled off one shoulder, breasts heaving…

Breasts heaving. He licked his lips, his mouth having suddenly gone dry. Carefully, Ron laid his hands on her belly, over her shirt marvelling at how small she looked against his awkward hands. He carefully let them wander up, watching vigilantly for signs of resistance.

Before he knew it, he was there, cupping her fantastic breasts, and she was letting him. She was letting him. They were even softer than they looked and more…springy. He moved his thumbs a millimeter at a time, growing progressively bolder.

When he finally grazed her nipple she gasped, arching her back so that she dislodged him. Blinking up at him she murmured. "Wow."

He beamed down at her. Wow, indeed.

"Ronald, dear, are you in there?'

At the sound of his mother's voice Ron jerked away. They stared at each other in horror. Hermione began scrambling off the bed and Ron caught her arm. He shook his head, whispering, "Hide on the bed with the curtains drawn. I'll get rid of her."

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley called again.

"I'll be right there, Mum."

Hermione pushed herself into the corner of the bed, looking at him with wide, wild eyes. "Go!" she whispered frantically.

That's when she realized that he was still kneeling there, frozen. With growing panic he gestured back to his groin, "I'm having a bit of trouble here."

"Can't you just…"

"No! It doesn't work I've tried!" Horrible images, the idea of his mother finding them, Ron knew from experience that nothing helped. What was he going to do?

"Ron? You alright, dear?"

"Oh for heavens sake." Hermione scrambled over and grabbed her wand and a pillow. She murmured a spell, and then pressed the ice cold pillow to his groin. He gasped and gritted his teeth.

"Sweetheart?"

"I'm coming!" He pushed the pillow away almost violently; a new kind of pain between his legs. Jumping off the bed, he pulled the curtains shut. He ran a quick hand through his hair and opened the door. "Hey, mum."

This mother looked over his rumpled appearance. "Ronald, whatever have you been doing?"

"Um, napping, Mum. Adrianna's been working us awfully hard."

She softened immediately and shook her head. "_Too_ hard, you're supposed to be on holiday."

"No, it's good," he protested quickly. He needed to distract her. "Hey, mum, I got eight OWLs and I was made prefect again."

His mother let out a high pitched squeal, grabbing his face and covering it with kisses. "Oh, Ronnie, that's wonderful! Oh, my baby boy! Eight OWLs I can't believe it."

Yeah, Ron thought, as he hugged her back, and he got the distinct impression that it was more than she expected.

* * *

Author's Note:

There was a scene at the end of this chapter where Harry and Ginny discussed the dream and OWLs ect, but Ron and Hermione got carried away and the Chapter ran too long, pushing the Harry/Ginny scene to the next chapter. No worries, it should be out soon.

Several paragraphs of this chapter were deleated due to questionable content. Please visit Checkmated, for the full, NC-17 version. Thanks!


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

* * *

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

This version has been modified from the original NC-17 version, housed at Specifically, explicatives have been modified and sexual situations made less explicit. _About a page from the second scene has been deleted from this version._ Thank you and enjoy.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Twenty-two

* * *

**

Ginny slipped away from the ballroom unnoticed. Not because she wanted to go unnoticed, but because it was a simple fact of her existence.

Up in her bedroom she tossed the shiny new prefect badge on the bed. Who in their right mind would give her a prefect badge? Didn't they know that she spent half of her life hiding from those damn things? But the answer was obvious…red hair, tattered robes… put them in Gryffindor and give 'em a prefect badge. Easy as that. No thought involved.

You had to fail half of your courses and blow up a few classrooms to escape without one. Ginny should have tried harder to be a deviant. She hadn't been brave enough to fail her classes, that was the problem.

Not that it would have done any good. With the twins having failed the requisite Weasley prefect hurtle, Ginny not getting a prefect badge would have gone as unnoticed as her having received one.

Why would anyone notice with the trio of heroes downstairs and their absurd twenty nine OWLs between them? Their mum would most likely throw a party over Ron's eight OWLs alone. It's bound to be exciting after he studiously lowered expectations over the last five years.

"Ginny, you in there?" Harry called through the crack in the door.

She stilled. The sad fact was that she hadn't left the door open by accident. Just because she slipped away without telling anyone didn't mean that she didn't secretly hope that she had been noticed, and of course, hoped that someone would care enough to come after her.

It was pathetic and manipulative, but it was difficult to regret when the result was Harry Potter at her door.

"Yeah, Harry, come on in."

Harry opened the door cautiously, and slipped inside, closing it behind him. "You left abruptly," he stated quietly.

And how long did it take anyone to notice? "Yeah, well, I wanted to take advantage of the down time and get some rest."

Harry didn't look convinced; instead he walked over to her bed and picked up the discarded badge. He fingered in carefully. "I reckon congratulations are in order," he stated wryly.

Ginny gave a short, bitter laugh at the irony. Harry was looking at the badge as if it meant something. "It's no big deal."

The look he gave her was sardonic. "Easy to say when you have one."

"Yes," she said to the ceiling, as she sat on the bed and leaned back on her elbows. "I have one and you don't. Just goes to show how meaningless they are. Cheer up, Harry, you didn't really have a chance. Didn't you know that the badge always goes to the redhead? It's the unwritten rule."

Harry's eyebrows rose. "So why didn't Fred and George get one?"

She shrugged. "They must have split the vote."

He chuckled, without much mirth, and sat next to her. "You earned this, Gin," he told her quietly, handing her the badge.

She didn't take the offering. "Oh really, how'd I do that?" she challenged.

It was clear that Harry hadn't been expecting that question. He stumbled over his words, "With …with your marks…and responsibility…and your character…"

Ginny laughed out loud, saying almost angrily, "What do you know about my marks, Harry? Do you know if I'm responsible? Or what I do in school? Do you know anything about me, apart from being the youngest Weasley?"

She didn't know what had possessed her to say all that. Attacking Harry wasn't liable to get her anywhere but alone and isolated. It was downright stupid is what it was.

Maybe she just needed him to prove her wrong, but as he sat, wide-eyed and slack jawed, she knew he wasn't going to being able to do that. Ginny needed to stop asking for things she couldn't have and move on with her life.

"I might not know what your marks are, or…a whole lot about your life at Hogwarts," Harry confessed warily. "But I know about your character…and…and I know you deserve to be prefect."

Well, at least he tried. Ginny looked at him sideways. "Is that the best you got, Potter?" she challenged for no good reason. She was feeling brave and self-destructive today.

Harry's jaw hardened and he turned and fixed her with a blazing emerald gaze. Apparently, she had pushed him too far. "I know what it is like to be in a shadow, for no one to really see me."

Ginny laughed without thinking. "Please, you're the prized Harry Potter. Everyone in the wizarding world is clamouring to see you."

"Yeah, but who does?" he bit out. "Who sees beyond the god damned Boy Who Lived, beyond whatever warped picture The Daily Prophet decides to paint this week."

Ginny met his angry gaze, responding with equal heat, "We do Harry. I do." But she didn't matter. Not like the rest of the world mattered.

"Do you, Ginny?" he accused. "Do you really see past the image? Was it because of me that you hid in your room for a month the first time I visited the Burrow? Was it Harry that had you uncharacteristically at a loss of words for years? Because I really find that hard to believe, since you see, you didn't really know me. You knew the legend."

She shook her head, forcibly biting back tears. It wasn't true. It was not true.

"How could you possibly know me, Ginny?" he asked more quietly, sadly. "How could I know you? We barely spoke before this year. I knew you as Ron's quiet sister. You knew me as the Boy Who Lived. That was just how it was."

Harry was right. Ginny was just as guilty as the rest of them. She had been obsessed with him for five years of her life…before she could even possibly have known him. She was always so sure he was what she imagined him to be. Where did the hero worship end and the real Harry begin?

Harry seemed fixated on the speck on the wall above Hermione's bed. "I had thought," he continued softly, "we were getting to know each other."

"We were," she protested quickly. "I… I want to." Frightened that she had ruined everything by letting her guard down and her feelings tumble out, she quickly reached out and laid a hand on his.

He smiled at her shyly and reached over to pin her prefect badge on her shirt. Harry shined it with his shirtsleeve. "Well, Prefect Weasley, why don't you start by telling me your deepest, darkest dreams," he said with a smile.

Ginny thought that perhaps that her heart had stopped. Wasn't that a bit intimate, asking her about her hopes and dreams already? She had caused enough trouble with sharing her inner most self today.

Harry grinned at her expression. "You know, last night's dream."

Oh, right, exactly. She let out the breath that she had been holding. She scooted back on the bed until her back hit the wall.

"Right, so this dream I had…I was in this castle, like hundreds of years ago or something. I was…." Stalling is what she was. Ginny had no idea why she was suddenly embarrassed. She had a flash to the morning's conversation about soul mates. "I was getting married…" She sounded a bit too prim when she said that. "I had a sister, who was kind of…mean. She kept talking about how old I was for getting married, though I think I was only fifteen."

Ginny looked to Harry, to gauge his reaction. He was listening intently, not giving much away. She continued, "The odd thing of it was that I was sharing someone's body, I was…" she struggled for the words.

"Just along for the ride," Harry offered.

Ginny nodded, a little disconcerted that he understood so perfectly.

"Go on," he prompted.

She swallowed. "Then I got married." Ginny wasn't sure what kind of detail she wanted to go into. Why did she feel like she was baring her soul here? It was just a dream. "It was strange. I was under the impression that it was an arranged marriage. I…she was dreading it. Then she saw her groom and it felt like…like she was in love with him or something?"

It had felt like more than that, it had been…really intense. She had felt awash with love and hunger and desire. She had felt tingly and excited and happier than Ginny had ever felt in her life.

And there had been something so familiar about the man she was marrying…like he knew her soul.

"Helena and Alexander." Harry's words snapped her out of her reverie; she looked over at him with astonishment. "Their names…Helena and Alexander, right?"

She nodded slowly, at a loss for words.

Harry's Adam's apple dipped and bobbed. "I had the same dream…well not the same dream. I mean I was Alex... Alexi in mine."

Oh god, no wonder he seemed familiar. It had been Harry. Heavens above, she'd kissed Harry. No wonder it had felt so intense, so blissful, so real…Why had it felt so real? It had been a dream after all. Why was she getting so excited? It wasn't the first time she had kissed Harry in her dreams.

Ginny could no longer hold his intense green gaze and she wrenched her eyes away, looking down. "Do you think it was the watch?"

"What else?" he responded.

What else, indeed? "Do you think it's dangerous?" She held her breath as she waited for the answer. She didn't know why it meant so much to her.

"Not really…do you?"

She could feel his eyes on her face, but still she couldn't take hers off the carpet. "I dunno." The diary hadn't seemed dangerous at first. Damn it, she was not going to think about that. This had nothing to do with…

"I don't think it has anything to do with Voldemort," Harry said intently.

She looked at him suddenly, her heart beating rapidly as he finished her thought. "How can you be sure?" she asked, though she wanted to drop it. Drop the questioning and just accept his answer.

"I can't, but we found it buried in baby clothes, at the bottom of my parents' trunk, sealed off in a room for sixteen years. A bit imprecise for Voldemort, don't you think? And inefficient?"

"Yes, but the room is in a house of Voldemort supporters."

He fixed her with that intense gaze of his again. Ginny wondered if he were using some sort of magic on her; she felt like she'd do anything for him.

"I think it's memories," he told her passionately. "I think it belonged to my ancestors."

"In 1507?"

He nodded and Ginny reached into her drawer to pull out the watch again. "It's closed, again," she said absently.

It was peculiar the way she watched Harry reach for it from a distance. He seemed to do it without thinking…and she couldn't seem to find her voice to stop him.

It happened just like the last time. He touched the watch, the watch touched her skin, and it held them like that…trapped together. When the pleasure started again, she realized that she must have forgotten the strength of it, or maybe it was just more so than last time.

She was gasping when she was finally able to pull her eyes to his. She realized that it was over and Harry's hand was still atop hers.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"S'okay," she responded, not knowing what she was offering absolution for.

"Do you want to tell?" he asked.

A flash of Weasley possessiveness filled Ginny at the question. This was hers. Hers and Harry's. No one else got this.

"Do you?" she asked softly.

Harry shrugged. "I kind of like having something that's just yours and mine. Everyone else has their secrets, why can't we?"

She looked down at the watch. "July 21, 1507," she read. "One month later. Reckon we'll have a new memory tonight?"

Harry smiled shyly. "You okay with this, Gin?"

She smiled back. "You promised to take me all over the world. I suppose taking me through time will have to do for now."

"All in good time, Miss Weasley, all in good time."

* * *

Ron was irritable and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. It had snuck up on him, it had.

Dinner was fine, well, at first. His mother made all his favourite foods and lavished him with attention. No one acted as though Harry or Hermione had achieved more than him, even though they had. Ron allowed himself to pretend all the wonderful things that Hermione had said about him were true and he was feeling pretty good.

Ron was becoming quite an expert at pretending. Like how he had started to pretend that Hermione was actually his and that the game they were playing wasn't going to come to a horrible end. But he wasn't going to think about that. He was not going to think about that.

Ron had let himself feel happy and confident, surrounded by his friends and family. How had he descended into the surly, cranky monster that was now glowering from his seat in the drawing room?

At first it had just been restlessness. The need to move that made him disappointed when Adrianna had said that they should rest and not train this evening. Rest? The last thing he wanted was rest. His insides seemed to become more energized by the moment.

He had considered asking Adrianna to show him something…anything to release some of the energy, but she retired to her room at an absurdly early hour. He wished his parents and Remus would have done the same, then he could… No that would be even worse. If he had Hermione alone on his bed right now, he'd… He'd probably throw her down and ravish her like a complete animal.

"Ron, are you sure you don't want to play chess?" Ginny asked for the hundredth time from her place on the floor of the drawing room, where she lie, trying unsuccessfully to read.

"I said no!" Ron snapped, sliding further back into the sofa and gritting his teeth for no good reason.

"But you always want to play and you're not doing anything. If I were Harry…"

"Shut it, Ginny, just don't want to." He knew he was being mean, but she deserved it. Couldn't she see that he was not in the mood? What did it take to get rid of her?

"Ginny, why don't you come help me?" Harry called from the other side of the room where he sat playing chess with Charlie. "Your brother is soundly trouncing me."

Ron stopped paying attention as Harry wheedled his sister over. He did catch the glares that he received from both of them. He almost wished they would start something. A nice row would really be the thing right now.

Too bad the only one that could give a decent row was Hermione and the last thing he wanted was her mad at him. But still a row would be nice…but not there, somewhere where they could be alone. Then part way through she would just attack him and kiss him or he'd grab her, he wasn't picky really. Then maybe he could tear off her clothes and really get his hands on those magnificent breasts….

And do things to her that went way beyond Practice…and friendship. Shite, how could he get into bed with her tonight feeling this way? What the hell was he supposed to do?

Ron caught Hermione watching him from the other corner of the sofa, as she always seemed to be doing at the most inopportune times. She was curled up reading a book, looking innocent and studious…sexy.

She was looking at him with concern, but all he could do was scowl at her. She reached out to touch him and he flinched.

Before he knew what he was doing, stupid fool that he was, he flinched and caused the most horrific look to come over Hermione's face. She covered it quickly and went back to reading, or rather staring at her book.

It was just like the last week at Hogwarts all over again. He had done some asinine things then, all because she affected him too much and he had left her feeling rejected.

Didn't she know by now that he'd never reject her?

Ron forced himself to slide over and sit next to her, so that their legs were touching. Just that touch made that treacherous part of him twitch, but he bit it down.

Hermione had stiffened and wasn't looking at him. He glanced nervously at the others. Harry and Charlie were engrossed in their chess match, but Ginny was clearly watching out of the corner of her eye. Oh, the hell with her. She already knew anyway.

Ron picked up Hermione's hand where it lay on her book and entwined their fingers. The energy gained from the contact caused his leg to bounce restlessly. She raised her eyes and looked at him cautiously, her hand limp in his.

He squeezed it. "I'm sorry, 'Mione," he whispered. "I'm just so…I have all this energy and I don't know what to do about it."

Hermione looked at him for a long time before saying, "Why don't you take a shower or something; try to relax?"

A shower…it just occurred to him then that the vigorous snogging session from this afternoon was the first time he didn't get the opportunity to…relieve the tension afterwards. No wonder he was so tense.

He nodded. "Yeah, that's a good idea." God, she was brilliant. She smiled back and removed her hand from his, going back to flip through the pages of her book.

Ron left the room with a new purpose. Yes, a shower was just the thing to get rid of this energy and be able to think again. More importantly, to be able to act like a human being around Hermione again.

He walked directly to the third floor bath, locking the door and carelessly tossing his wand on the vanity. He turned the tap on 'hot,' as hot as he could stand. No cold shower for him. He wanted to relieve the tension, not suppress it.

The small room quickly filled with steam. Carelessly, he pulled off his t-shirt; already the heat was relaxing his muscles. Anticipation filled him and he hurriedly pulled open the buttons to his jeans. They fell in a heap on the floor; boxers and socks followed.

Ron climbed into the shower and let the hot water rush over his face. The tension eased. His palms flattened against the cool tile in front of him and he allowed his shoulders and face to drop forward, the water washing his hair into his face and the pounding on his shoulders soothing away the knots.

The need to rush left him and suddenly all he wanted to do was to enjoy this. No worries of Hermione coming back into the room, or dorm mates walking into the shower, or his mother knocking at the door. He could take his time and enjoy what Hermione made him feel.

Ron grabbed the bar of soap and began lathering up as he slowly ran through the events of their afternoon encounter. He saw her splayed out, with her hair wild and her lips swollen, her warm eyes half mast, the words, 'you're my hero,' on her soft lips.When he was done Ron staggered back and leaned against the tile, feeling like his very bones had dissolved. It was by far the best orgasm he had ever had. He smiled to himself, Hermione. He wished he could thank her.

Feeling drowsy, he cleaned off the tile and shut off the water. He didn't realize that he had forgotten both his pajamas and a towel. He pulled on just his jeans, only bothering to button the first two buttons. He shoved his wand, boxers and socks into his pocket, where they half spilled out in a lazy fashion. Ron used his t-shirt as a towel to dry his hair as he walked down the hall and into his room.

Ron was too relaxed to think much of it when he found Hermione sitting on his bed in her pajamas. Her jaw fell open at the sight of him. She blushed a becoming pink along the edge of her cheek bones. "Oh, Ron…Sorry, I…all the adults went to bed, so I…" The words spilled out of her, her eyes glued to his chest.

Ron felt arousal build again. It took him a moment to realize that she was uncomfortable. "No, it's fine I just forgot to get something to wear before I…" He quickly strode to the chest of drawers to grab a pair of pajamas.

"I'll just go to the loo then and let you change." By the time he had straightened up, she was gone.

Ron changed quickly, so she wouldn't be embarrassed when she came back. He threw himself face down on the bed, telling himself he needed to stay awake and make sure she was all right.

That was his last thought before drifting off.

* * *

Hermione had given up the pretense of turning the pages of the Empath Diary that lie on her lap after Ron had left the drawing room. Harry, Ginny and Charlie seemed too absorbed in their game to notice she was distracted, too distracted to read the book she had been clamouring for months to read.

There was something wrong with Ron, Hermione just knew it. She had watched him slowly become agitated throughout dinner. By the time they reached the drawing room he was downright surly. Snapping at his sister for no good reason, refusing to play chess, slouching in the chair and throwing eye daggers at anyone or anything that caught his gaze. Not to mention flinching at her touch…flinching at her touch.

There were only two explanations that made any sense to Hermione and both revolved around this afternoon's…activities. He was either shocked and disgusted at how bold she had been asking to touch him, or…completely turned off by her childlike ineptitude and naiveté, not to mention appalled by her little girl's body and lack of curves. Maybe that was three things. Yes, definitely three things.

But he'd been so sweet when he'd taken her hand and tried to reassure her. After he left to shower she'd tried to convince herself that she was letting her insecurities get the better of her. As soon as Charlie, the last of the adults, went to bed she would go to Ron's room and he'd pull her into his arms and kiss her, and she'd know that he still wanted her as much as he always had.

Maybe the restlessness that he had been complaining about wasn't because he needed to get away from her. Maybe this afternoon's Practice had just left him with a kind of energy and need that hummed through his body…just like it was doing to hers.

Hermione didn't know what it was. She didn't know what she was supposed to do about it or if it was even normal. She wasn't even sure that she liked it. But her body seemed to know that it needed. Only Ron could make the throbbing stop. She was too scared to consider how he could do that.

Flipping through the pages she realized that the Empath research, while interesting, had lost the life and death edge that drove her in the beginning. It was hard to believe that the person teaching you how to defend yourself was trying to kill you.

The chess match ended, Charlie having won. It was difficult to beat a Weasley at chess. Ginny demanded she get to play the winner but Charlie begged off and said good night.

Hermione feigned disinterest as she called out, "Good night." Inside she was calculating how long it would take him to safely shut his door, so she could sneak away to Ron's room.

"Come on, Gin. I'll play you," Harry was saying.

"What's the fun in that? You're hardly a challenge, Potter. You can't even get the pieces to follow your directions."

"Fine then, Hermione you want to play?"

It took her a few minutes to register the question Harry had asked of her. "What? Oh, oh, no I'm fine."

Ginny and Harry stared at her. "All right there, Hermione?" Harry asked. "You seem a bit….scattered."

Hermione flushed for no good reason. "No, I'm just tired. I think I'll head to bed." She gathered her things and began to go across the hall and change.

She heard Harry call out from behind her. "Have a good night and don't forget about the Imperturbable."

Her face became hotter, but she didn't grace that comment with a reply. What could she say anyway? She was hoping for exactly what Harry implied they'd be doing behind the closed curtains of Ron's bed. She wondered if her sleeping there had anything to do with his nightmares anymore.

After changing she headed up to Ron's room fully expecting him to be there when she arrived. Hermione was filled with nervous anticipation at their being alone again. The disappointment when he wasn't there was irrationally intense. What could he be doing in the shower for so long anyway? He was a boy. He didn't have ten tons of hair to deal with.

The longer she was in the room, the more nervous she became. She wished she had brought a book, though at this point it wouldn't have done her a bit of good. She paced and wrung her hands.

Hermione had just forced herself to sit on their…his bed, when he came to the door. Oh, my…heavens…

Hermione was staring at a naked male chest….No. Ron's naked, wet chest. She never knew it could look like that, not in real life anyway. Were sixteen year olds supposed to have that much muscle? Oh god, his pants weren't buttoned, she could see the line of his hips where they met his abdomen and just a bit of hair….

She was going to hyperventilate. She was going to faint. Why had her intellect abandoned her? Where was her trademark composure when she needed it? Oh my, oh my, oh my….

She realized that she was doing nothing but staring, acting like some besotted idiot. Somehow, Hermione found her voice. "Oh, Ron…Sorry, I…all the adults went to bed, so I…"

Ron answered her far too casually. "No, it's fine I just forgot to get something to wear before I…" Clearly he wasn't nearly as affected by this as she was…but then again she wasn't standing their half starkers, was she?

She needed to get out of there. "I'll just go to the loo then and let you change."

Hermione couldn't get out of the room fast enough. She rushed down to the bath and closed the door. The mirror was still steamed from Ron's shower. Oh god, he had been naked in here jut a few minutes ago.

She was imagining him naked. Do good girls imagine boys naked? Hermione had certainly never done it before. She had also never touched _that_ before… and she was certain that good girls did not do that. She was turning into a scarlet woman, completely driven by hormones… and she couldn't stop.

She paced the small room restlessly, turning so often that she was getting dizzy. What was happening to her? What was this ache that kept getting stronger every day? She needed to do something or she really would go mad.

Hermione was just going to have to talk to Ron. They were going to have to sit down and have a rational discussion about what the hell was going on here. She would just march back into the room and ask him what he was feeling and tell him what she was feeling and see if they could make sense of it all.

She splashed some cold water on her face. All right, she was going to do this. Hermione took deep calming breaths all the way back to the bedroom. She steeled herself and placed her most composed look on her face before opening the door.

"Ron…Ron?"

She found him face down on the bed, snoring softly. Hermione could have cried.

So much for her theory that he was filled with restless sexual energy for her. Oh, and what about the whole 'I can't sleep without you, Hermione,' rubbish? Why was this happening to her?

Hermione threw herself down onto the bed beside him and contemplated the ceiling and her misery. When she heard Harry climbing up the stairs she quickly closed the curtains.

She did not want to explain to him why they were not snogging each other's faces off.

* * *

Author's Note: To read the NC-17 version of this story, click "homepage" on my profile page and it will take you to Checkmated where you can apply for access to the Bedchamber. 


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

* * *

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

This version has been modified from the original NC-17 version, housed at Specifically, explicatives have been modified and sexual situations made less explicit. Any large changes will be pointed out in author's notes. Thank you and enjoy.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Ginny was in a carriage, snuggled into a warm body, with a heavy masculine arm around her shoulders. The sway and movement of the carriage felt peculiar. She glanced out the window. Oh, they were flying. That explained it.

The arm around her pulled her closer and she felt warm; warm and loved…but there was an tension that radiated from the man who held her close. Helana looked up into the uneasy eyes of her husband.

Wow...Harry's in there. Ginny wanted to call out to him, to somehow communicate, but as hard as she willed it she could not make Helana speak or move. Ginny was trapped inside of her.

Finally she spoke. "You're worried," she stated and Ginny was disappointed that they weren't the words she wanted…the word actually. She continued to scream, 'Harry' in her head.

Alexi shook his head. "I'm just disappointed. I wanted more time alone with you." He gave her a look that caused her to feel warm and tingly….oh god, Harry's in there.

"Yes, but you're worried," Helana corrected and Alex smiled in a tender guilty way. "Why?" she asked.

He swallowed, his eyes fixated out of the window. "I don't like your sister. I don't want you around her."

Helana looked away from him. Ginny felt that Helana didn't like her either…she was afraid of her. "She's family, Alex," she said softly.

"Her husband's death is suspicious."

"He wasn't a nice person."

"Neither is your sister."

Helana looked at him, her fear intensifying. "Are you saying that you think Hilda is responsible for his death?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. "I'm saying I don't like you around her and…." He smiled down at her sweetly in what was an obvious attempt to change the subject. "…I would prefer to spend the time alone with you."

He leaned toward her and Ginny felt a rush of panic and excitement. Harry was going to kiss her. Harry was going to kiss her.

But it wasn't Harry she reminded herself, mustn't think that it was…

Then Helana's eyes fluttered shut and Alex's large hand cupped her head. When his lips slide across hers, it felt like Harry. Felt like Harry's tongue stroking her lips and begging entrance, making her feel warm and alive, loved and cherished.

He pulled away without deepening the kiss further. Helana whimpered and opened her eyes.

It wasn't Harry

Ginny felt cheated. Cheated out of a first kiss with Harry that may or may not have ever happen. Out of a kiss where she knew her emotions were hers and the man kissing her wanted to kiss her. Ginny wanted to go away and hide; to feel miserable, but this woman's annoyingly pleasant feelings kept getting in the way.

Alex was coming in for another kiss and Ginny didn't want it, but Helana did and she parted her lips eagerly.

If Ginny was feeling forced, how must it feel for Harry? He didn't even want to kiss her. It must feel like rape to him.

Ginny held onto that horrible thought for as long as she could, trying as hard as she could to separate herself from Helana, but the love and desire the woman was feeling were overwhelming. It didn't help that Ginny _did_ want to be kissing Harry.

His tongue was stroking hers and Helana was responding in a passionate way, tangling their tongues together. This body knew this man, knew what to do. She must have had a hell of a lot of practice in the last month.

Alex's hands were wandering, making Ginny desperate for him to both stop and keep going. She was relieved beyond measure when the carriage jerked and Alex pulled away with a sigh. Ginny searched desperately for Harry in his eyes and thought she saw him somewhere in there.

He rested his forehead against hers, asking, "Are you sure about this?"

Helana wasn't sure, Ginny could tell. Actually, Helana wasn't sure of anything. She was teaming with different emotions. It was difficult to sort out and bloody annoying, actually.

Alex helped her out and Ginny noted that it had been a pair of jet black Hippogriffs pulling the carriage. She didn't have time to ponder this as they walked resolutely toward the castle, her hand in the crook of her husband's arm.

As they approached, Ginny felt waves of emotion overcome her… grief… anger…hatred. The closer she came to the castle the more intense it became. Ginny didn't understand why she was feeling this way, but it was choking her.

When she stepped through the front gates, a particularly harsh wave hit her and she stumbled. Harry…Alexi was there with an arm around her waist to keep her upright. He looked at her with concern and a new wave of fear hit her, but this time she also felt love.

"I'm fine," Helana reassured with a smile.

Fine? Fine! They were not fine. For whatever reason they were drowning in despair and terror…and it made no sense.

A house elf came up to them and Alex chose to direct his frustration at the poor creature. "Take us to her father. Now!" he snapped.

Ginny barely noticed where they were going as Alex dragged her beside him. The elf led them through the castle. Helana was concentrating on her breathing, which Ginny found helpful.

At the top of a winding staircase was a door where the elf stopped and bowed before opening it. Before the door opened, Ginny could hear screaming. "How dare you, Stephan!" Helana recognized her sister's screech.

"How dare I? I beg you Hilda; give me one reason to believe it was not my sister who caused the death of my best friend."

"He was _my_ husband," she hissed and Stephan scoffed.

Alexi led Helana into the room, holding her firmly. She recognized her father who was smiling at her sadly. She felt confusion, concern, and despair. She looked upon the man…her brother and was over come with grief and rage. She tore her eyes away to look at her sister and felt…anger and cold determination.

Helana gasped as the absolute knowledge that her sister had poisoned her husband came over her. Her knees gave way. The room began to spin. Her vision disintegrated into a million dots and gave way to grey.

As the world faded into blackness, Ginny thought she heard Harry calling her name.

* * *

Harry felt Ginny collapse in his arms with rising panic. He knew it was just Helana, but somehow it felt like Ginny. Something really bad was happening. Really, really bad. Harry tried to call out to her as Alexi lifted her against him, murmuring, "Helana?"

No…no…Is Ginny ok?

This was all Harry's fault. Why had he shown her the watch? Why had he let it seduce him? Why had he needed to keep it a secret? Because he was a selfish git, that's why.

'Ginny!' he tried to call. Enough, he had to wake up. Wake up! He tried to force his eyes open with all his might. Wake up! Wake up!

His eyes snapped open and he saw the curtains of his bed. He heard Hermione let out a soft moan from the bed next to him. Were they ever going to remember the Imperturbable?

It didn't matter. Harry scrambled out of bed and quickly made his way to Ginny's room. If something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself. If he hadn't been so curious, if he hadn't wanted to feel that sensation again, if he hadn't been so weak…

Harry entered the room without knocking. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw Ginny sitting up. She was hugging her knees to her chest. When she turned he saw that tears drenched her face.

His guilt was a fiery pit in his stomach. He approached her, instinctively sitting beside her and wrapping his arms around her. She leaned into him, sniffling, but didn't loosen her grip on her knees.

"It was awful, Harry."

He swallowed. He was such a piece of shite. Harry stroked her long, smooth hair without thinking. "Are you all right? When you went down, I… you scared me."

"I'm fine, I think. I don't know."

He felt her tears against his chest and rocked her. It just felt like the right thing to do.

"I think she killed him, Harry. I mean I'm sure she did," Ginny whispered into his shirt.

It took him a moment to comprehend. "Hilda and her husband? How do you know?" Harry wasn't sure why he was asking. He should just bury the damn watch and be done with it.

Ginny pulled her head away and looked up at him. She looked so young and innocent in that moment, fragile. "Harry, I felt it."

He shook his head, wanting to understand, but not…

"When I looked at Hilda I felt this anger and…and ice and darkness, then I just knew she killed him. She felt evil, Harry."

Harry took a sharp breath and blew it out slowly. "And you felt this?"

"I felt a lot of things that it didn't make sense for Helana to feel….despair, fear, rage. It was overwhelming in that castle."

"Did it feel like it was coming from other people?"

She shook her head. "I dunno…it felt…" Ginny searched his face. "Do you think Helana's an Empath?"

He couldn't look at her anymore. It hurt him. "Must be…shite, I should have told Adrianna. I'm so stupid."

Ginny pulled out of his grasp. "We agreed not to tell her. If you're stupid, then so am I."

Harry shook his head. "I was selfish….I wanted something that was just ours…that no one could touch and it hurt you…you almost…."

"I didn't almost anything," she snapped, wiping her cheeks roughly and sitting up straight. "It was a dream…I'm fine. I was just…still reacting to the other people's emotions. I'm fine now."

Harry knew what Ginny was doing. She was trying to convince him that she was strong. Make him believe that it wasn't his fault, but it was. "You could have been hurt. I knew better, after Riddle's Diary…"

He cut off at Ginny's sharp intake of breath. "This is nothing like the diary, Harry," she snapped, red faced, and looked away. But the lady had protested a tad too hastily. "It was my decision. I get to decide what I do, not you."

He watched her for a moment. "Well, given the new information, I think we should tell Adrianna. What do you think?"

Ginny looked away from him. "I agree. We'll tell her tomorrow. But this is because she's an Empath and it might have something to do with her…not because I think we should stop."

Harry's jaw dropped. She wanted to keep doing it. For some reason the knowledge filled him with elation. He didn't really want to stop, until the end the dream had been… pretty amazing. He thought about what it had been like to kiss Ginny…Helana. Alexi kissed Helana, he reminded himself, but no matter who was doing it, it had felt incredible.

He had been so afraid that she would feel violated, disgusted even. But if she wanted to do it again…. "Is that what you'd like, Ginny? To do it again?" Harry wished that he didn't sound so vulnerable.

Ginny set her jaw. "Do you?" she challenged.

Harry felt like it was a test. He hadn't studied. "I don't want you to get hurt, but yeah, I reckon I do."

"Then so do I," she said in a firm way that made him chuckle. Sometimes she was so like her mother. He looked around the room, suddenly uneasy.

"So, then…do you mind if I sleep in Hermione's bed for the rest of the night. Ron and Hermione forgot the Imperturbable again." And the dreams might come back. He wanted to be next to her if they did.

Ginny grimaced. "Ick, what's wrong with them? Of course you can stay here. Though I should warn you that the image that you just put into my head will most likely give me nightmares."

Harry chuckled gratefully and looked at her through his lashes. "Thanks, Gin."

"Any time," she said seriously.

Harry didn't sleep that much that might. Mostly he watched Ginny for signs of nightmares.

* * *

Hermione didn't know how long she lay there, awake, next to a sexy…wet… snoring Ron. It may have been hours.

It was a difficult paradox that she was trying to resolve. The one where she had somehow managed to be both a pathetic, naive little girl, complete with childlike body and a rampaging whore at the same time. Not an easy feat. Kudos to her.

But however she had managed it; it had been just the trick to send Ron into the complete coma he was currently in. He lay there, relaxed and peaceful, while her body practically twitched with energy. She was stiff from the restraint it took to not touch him.

How had she gotten here? Deliriously happy this afternoon, wallowing in self pity now. Lying in bed with the boy she was in love with. The boy who thought they were just Practicing. Practicing for what? Who was she anymore?

And the worst part….she wouldn't even care if only he'd wake up and touch her.

Hermione suddenly had to get out of that room. She scrambled to pull the curtains back and slip off into the dark. Just as her feet hit the ground she felt a hand close over her arm.

"Where ya goin', 'Mione?" Ron asked, his voice heavy from sleep.

She was caught! She panicked. Just tell him she was going to the loo…tell him… "I couldn't sleep."

There was an insistent tug on her arm. "I'll keep you company. Come back to bed." His voice was warm and thick, sending shivers down her spine.

Hermione let herself be pulled back to bed, knowing that she was weak and lacked self-respect. She just needed to be with him. She was unable to resist him as he pulled her into his warm embrace and stretched like a cat against her.

The throbbing, the energy, it was confusing her again. Hermione didn't know….oh, hell with it. She grabbed his head and yanked it down to hers. She kissed him with all the energy building up inside of her, all the frustration, and all the anger at him for not feeling the same.

Ron was slack with surprise and she took advantage, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and clawing at his shoulders. Hermione pushed him onto his back with a surge of strength; he went easily. She climbed above him and attacked him more vigorously. She slipped her hands over his chest and down to his waist. They moved under his shirt, having a desperate need to touch the skin that she had seen earlier that night.

The feel of it was more than she expected and she moaned against his mouth. She dug her nails into his flesh to punish him for making her act this way, making her feel like this. Ron allowed her to take her frustrations out on him, giving her the upper hand. His arms were only lightly resting on her back; he kissed her, but he stayed passive.

Hermione knew the exact moment when dominance slipped away from her. There was a violent surge through Ron's body as he suddenly engaged in the battle. His whole body seemed to wrap itself around hers and pull her painfully closer. His tongue and teeth fought hers. She dug her nails in as deep as they could go.

Ron growled, flipping her easily onto her back and pinning her beneath him. Grabbing her hands he yanked them over her head, trapping them there. Hermione bucked underneath him, twisting and turning to regain the upper hand, but all she succeeded in doing was increase the heat and throbbing in her body. She bit his lip in frustration.

He pulled away and stared at her with wide, wild eyes, his breaths rapid. "What the hell has gotten into you tonight, 'Mione?"

She seemed to have lost the power of speech because all she could do was growl and try to pull her arms free. He yanked them more firmly above her head and held them easily with one hand. The other ran back down her arm and shoulder, over her chin and cupped her cheek. Her eyes had long since rolled back into her head from the pleasure of it. She leaned into his hand, then angry at the weakness it wrought in her, she nipped at it.

He was half lying across her, one leg pinning hers. "Tell me what you want?" he breathed in her ear. "Do you want me to let you go?"

God, help her, she didn't. But she couldn't tell him that. Hermione squeezed her eyes and lips shut, feeling completely exposed.

"Do you want me to touch you?" Ron asked.

God yes. "Please." Once she started moaning it she couldn't seem to stop. It came out as a litany. "Please, please, please…"

His hand touched her neck, stroking her. "I don't know what you want. Tell me."

There was a desperate, pleading quality to his voice that seemed to pull the words from her. "Touch me," she said in a small, sobbing voice. "Like you did this afternoon." She was a slag, but it didn't matter. She was his.

Ron's breath hitched, but his hand moved, leaving a path of bliss across her throat and chest to cup her breast. "Like this?" His voice had lost all teasing. His question was unsure.

His touch wasn't enough. "Under, please, Ron, please." She couldn't bear look him in the eyes, so she concentrated on the sound of his breath speeding up. Concentrated on the feel of it as it puffed against her ear and cheek…and on his hand as it tentatively crept under her pajama shirt and traveled up.

He was going so damned slowly. Ron froze completely when he reached the under edge of her breast. She snarled with frustration. Wasn't begging enough? "Ron, please!"

Ron cupped her and she thought she'd die of the pleasure. He squeezed and she arched off the bed into him.

His other hand left her wrists, but she kept them there as if she was still restrained. She felt the air on her chest as he fully exposed her and heard his quick intake of breath. She squeezed her lids more tightly together so as to not see his disappointment.

Both hands were cupping her now, kneading her. It was too much. She listed back and forth. "Ron, please, please."

"Like this?' he asked as he caressed her. She nodded vigorously, desperate for him to not stop. Liquid warmth was flooding her lower body. It was too intense. She couldn't stand it any more. Hermione pulled his hand away. She looked up into his heated gaze and found she was drowning.

"Ron, what's happening to me?" she sobbed out, clutching his shoulders. She buried her head in his chest and soaked it with frustrated tears.

He laid her back, stiffly, but carefully. "Shhh, it's ok, it's ok," he told her in a frightened sort of voice, as he held her to him and stroked her back.

"Something's wrong with me," she told him and felt him shake his head against her.

"Nothing's wrong with you. Nothing at all. You're perfect. My 'Mione, shh." He kept the litany going and lulled her into a troubled sleep.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a tense affair. Well, more tense than usual. Mrs. Weasley was in quite a thither, as she bustled about getting ready to leave on holiday and drilling poor Bill on his skills as a chaperone. It seemed this morning she found him perhaps the least responsible wizard on the planet.

As for Ginny, she was apprehensive and anxious. She and Harry had agreed to tell Adrianna and Charlie about the watch directly after breakfast. However, at the moment it didn't feel like Ginny's decision at all but instead a product of her caving in to Harry's overprotective nonsense.

It was sure to be one of the least fun conversations of Ginny's life. She was sure to get, at the very least, a lecture about her stupidity and immaturity. She had already decided to count how many times Riddle's diary came up, just to see if it hit double digits. She really should have put money on it with Harry.

At worst, they'd tell her parents and it would be used as evidence against making any of her own decisions until she was at least thirty-five. At best, they'd just take the watch.

Maybe she could still talk Harry out of telling them. The thought of never again feeling the sensation of when she and Harry touched the watch together made her mildly ill. And how would they ever know what happened to Helena and her Alexi? How would they ever know whatever it was that they wanted them to know?

Harry was completely overreacting. It wasn't dangerous at all. It had just been a little intense, that's all. Ginny wasn't use to feeling all those emotions, to being an Empath, but it couldn't hurt her. Adrianna felt that way all the time and she was just fine.

Ginny's eyes found Adrianna at the table. Wow, she felt that way all the time. How could she stand it? How did she walk around every day and get things done and be calm and composed?

Come to think of it, at the moment, she didn't look so calm and composed. Actually, Adrianna's careful demeanour had been slowly slipping over the last few days and this morning…well, if Ginny didn't know better she'd say she was on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

Ginny's mother was going through a litany of reasons that she shouldn't entrust her 'babies' to Bill…and Adrianna's name came up quite a lot. Every argument she was made ended with "and you never once mentioned Adrianna in all these years." For obvious reasons Charlie was getting his fair share of the scolding as well.

'Drana was quiet, occasionally grimacing or frowning, rubbing her temples and poking at her food.

Mrs. Weasley was in the middle of her latest tirade. "…and you never once told us Fleur was a Veela… or her age for that matter and you've been dating her for a year! Though, I don't suppose I should be surprised, given your brother never once brought Adrianna home after seven years."

Adrianna froze at the insinuation of the nature of her relationship with Charlie. She closed her eyes as if she were in pain. When she opened them she had the look of a woman who had been pushed too far.

"To be fair, Mrs. Weasley," she said. "That's my fault. Charlie invited me to England multiple times, I wouldn't come."

All conversation at the table stopped at the rare gift of information from the past.

Molly looked at Adrianna incredulously, "Well, why ever not?"

"Well, you see, I hate England," she replied.

Charlie broke the stunned silence, trying to soften her words. "'Drana doesn't hate England…she has a sort of fear of it….a phobia of sorts." He shot her a warning look.

Adrianna rolled her eyes. "Tomato, tomahto, whatever. I wouldn't come."

Ginny couldn't help but ask the obvious question, "But why?"

The Empath stabbed her eggs rather violently. "Well you see, the last time I was here my father was killed rather violently and I felt the entire thing. I had pretty much decided I was never coming back."

The next silence stretched even longer.

"But you did," Harry whispered, his pallor ashen.

"Yes, well I didn't have much choice now. I had a vision. Your safety was a bit more important than my 'phobia.'" Adrianna's eyes darted to Harry and back to her plate. She seemed to have lost the ability to maintain eye contact.

"But Dumbledore…" Harry choked. "The Pensieve…"

Adrianna just shrugged in response.

"What about Dumbledore and the Pensieve?" Charlie asked insistently.

Her jaw hardened and she looked at him challengingly. "The first day I arrived, Dumbledore took Harry and me into the Pensieve and showed us the day my father died. How's that for irony?"

Ginny heard Hermione take a sharp intake of breath and knew she was thinking the same thing. So that's what was behind Adrianna's disrespect of the headmaster.

Charlie looked enraged. "I can't believe…why would he do such a thing?"

"It was for Harry, Charlie…It made sense if you were there." Her tone became soft. "There were things that Harry had to understand."

"By reliving the worst day of your life?" Ginny was surprised to find that she had said the question out loud.

Adrianna fixed her with piercing grey-blue eyes. "Second worst," she stated matter-of-factly. "It was the second worst day of my life." Adrianna tried to go back to eating, but didn't seem to be able to make her hands work. She set down her fork and hastily wiped her hands on a napkin. "Excuse me," she muttered and the astonished group watched her flee the room.

Ginny's eyes fell on Charlie who looked stricken and pale.

"Charlie…" their mum began.

"Sorry," he interrupted. "I have some errands to run." _Crack_. He Disapparated.

Ginny shared a long look with Harry. She reckoned she didn't need to worry about telling Adrianna and Charlie about the watch after all.

* * *

It wasn't until evening that Harry had a chance to get Ginny alone. Their plan to talk to Adrianna and Charlie had kind of gone to hell after the breakfast catastrophe.

Adrianna had emerged for training with bloodshot eyes and a distant expression. She had a calm relentlessness about her teaching…and Harry thought he had never seen her having such a difficult time reading thoughts. Charlie hadn't shown himself until dinner, which Adrianna didn't attend. After the meal she had pulled them into yet another training session, until Charlie had finally come and physically hauled her away to "talk."

When the bloody hell was the wanker going to go back to Romania, was what Harry wanted to know. He had spied on his cousin's closed and Imperturbable door from across the hall for over an hour. He contemplated the guilt he felt for being the reason that Adrianna had relived her father's death. He raged at Dumbledore for being so thoughtless and at Charlie…for somehow being involved in the worst day of her life.

Charlie shouldn't be the one in there "talking" to Adrianna. It should be Harry comforting her. He wished she would confide in him.

When Charlie finally emerged, Harry found Adrianna calmly reading on her bed, insisting everything was "fine" and that she was just "tired."

Disgusted, Harry had left to find Ginny and discuss their situation, as he was suddenly having real difficulties with the plan to tell Adrianna and Charlie anything. Anyway, if she didn't care enough to read his mind, than she didn't deserve to know. Yet…. if keeping the secret hurt Ginny, he would never forgive himself.

He found Ginny in the drawing room with Hermione. They were both reading. Ginny was curled up in a soft arm chair and Hermione was on the sofa. Harry stood in the doorway gesturing wildly, in an attempt to get Ginny's attention without alerting his best friend.

When he finally caught her eye she gave him a look that suggested she believed he had gone quite mad, but she excused herself and slipped away in a skilled way that wouldn't have made even old Mad-Eye suspicious.

When she neared him it was with a wickedly challenging smile that he found somewhat unsettling. Harry grabbed her wrist and pulled her into her room, closing the door. When he turned, she was wearing an expectant look cousin to the earlier one that made him blush for some reason and shift nervously on his feet.

He sat at the edge of her bed, suddenly having difficulty figuring out what he wanted to say.

"So?" she prompted, sitting next to him.

"So, I …er…I figured we'd better discuss things since our plan kind of fell apart." He glanced at her sideways and then down at the floor.

"The plan?" she asked in a teasing tone. He couldn't decide how much of it was play.

"Yeah, you know, to tell Adrianna and Charlie."

"Oh," she sounded a bit disappointed. "Do you want to tell them now?"

Was she crazy? He gave her an incredulous look. "Do you value your limbs, because I have a feeling that putting them both in a room and telling them we've been lying and playing with old magic might not be so safe at the moment."

Ginny bit her lip; "So, we wait?" The intense look in her golden-brown eyes was making him uncomfortable.

Harry shrugged, not able to maintain eye contact; as he leaned his elbows on his knees and tapped his hands together nervously. Waiting wasn't exactly what he had been thinking of.

"Harry?" Ginny asked cautiously. "Did you have something else in mind?" He shrugged again. "You do still want to tell?"

"I don't want you to get hurt," he stated softly.

She gave an annoyed grunt. "I'm not as weak as you think I am, Harry."

Her harsh angry tone pulled his eyes back to hers. "I don't," he denied, blushing because it was true, because he couldn't come up with any more convincing words. He looked away. "I just…lots of strong people have been hurt because of me before."

"No one's been hurt because of you, Harry. They made a decision. A decision that was theirs to make and someone else hurt them. Someone evil. The world doesn't revolve around you, you know?" Her passionate speech ended and Ginny's eyes widened as if she were surprised at herself.

Harry had to smile. The world didn't revolve around him; he should remember that. He took a deep breath to give him the strength to once again meet her intense brown eyes. "So what's your decision, Ginevra Weasley?"

Her bravado had already left her and she was gnawing carefully on her bottom lip. "About the watch?" she asked apprehensively. At his sober nod, Ginny sat up straight and assumed a more resolute look. It only wavered a bit when she said, "I want to keep doing it. I want to have more dreams from the watch."

Every bit of air left Harry's lungs. He nodded. "And not tell?"

"Well, I can't imagine that they'll let us keep it if we do."

"No," he said distractedly, carefully choosing his next words. "I was thinking that maybe it would be ok if we tried it again, if…for both our safety…I stayed in Hermione's bed…just in case something goes wrong." Harry didn't dare look at her.

"Okay," she said quickly. Much more quickly than he had anticipated.

He looked at her swiftly. "Okay?"

Ginny nodded. She had a strange look on her face. It was a look that Harry couldn't name, but she was smiling.

He smiled back, suddenly feeling awkward as if she had just agreed to go to Hogsmeade with him or something. "Okay then, I'll um…" he stood shuffling his feet. "I'll, um, be back after Ron and Hermione, you know, go to sleep and stuff."

She nodded, with the same intense smile, and he tried not to run from the room. There was a bounce in his step as he climbed the steps.

When he got to his room Ron was sitting on his bed. Harry was surprised to also find Fred in the middle of the room with a large box at his feet. "Hey," he greeted him, confused. Fred wasn't supposed to be here for the party until tomorrow.

"Hey mate, just dropping by to leave a little gift for Ronniekins. See you blokes at the party. Enjoy!" He smiled wickedly at his brother and _Crack_, he was gone.

"Uh huh," Ron's belated response followed after him as he stared wide-eyed at a magazine.

Harry took a closer look. "Holy Shite, Ron! Is that…?"

Ron nodded, absently, "_Wicked, Wicked Witches_."

Harry scrambled round to sit next to him. "They're all starkers?" he whispered, feeling clammy.

"Harry, they're not just starkers."

Harry's mouth dropped open at the sight of the lured, sexual, moving pictures. "Whoa!"

"Yeah."

"What is that?"

Both boys' eyes shot up guiltily, to find Hermione standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

Her expression said she knew exactly what that was.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

* * *

Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

This version has been modified from the original NC-17 version, housed at Specifically, explicatives have been modified and sexual situations made less explicit. Any large changes will be pointed out in author's notes. Thank you and enjoy.

* * *

**Of Hearts and Heroes**

**Chapter Twenty-Four_

* * *

_**

Ron lay flat on his back on his bed, his arms crossed behind his head. The Great Empath Massacre lay open and unread across his chest as he contemplated exactly when Hermione had gone completely around the bend.

She had been perfectly normal yesterday during training, and then with the arrivals of the OWLs, she had been downright giddy. After that…with the Practicing, she had been bloody fantastic. Well, he thought so, and she certainly seemed to be enjoying herself.

She had seemed a little put off when she first noticed his erection, but she had certainly recovered quickly…and enthusiastically, Ron thought, grinning to himself. Hermione had been a little quiet at dinner, but she was always shy and a bit distracted after Practicing, so he hadn't been bothered by her silences. He found it rather endearing, actually.

Maybe the problem started when he had flinched from her touch. He knew that was a big mistake, because last night…last night she had gone completely nutters.

At first, he thought nothing of her passionate onslaught of snogging. Hell, what sixteen-year-old male could think at all in that situation? Even though she had been uncharacteristically aggressive, he'd been too enthralled to consider why... Hell, she could be aggressive any time she bloody well wanted to. Should he have been worried that he was pressuring her? But why would he have thought she didn't want it? She was begging him, for god's sake. It had been the best moment of his life…he had his hands on her…

Then she went crazy and Hermione hadn't been the same since.

All day, Ron couldn't do anything right. If he touched her, she shrank away. If he avoided touching her, she became hurt and annoyed. One minute she was irritable, the next she was quiet and distant. She wouldn't respond when he talked to her and heaven forbid he ignore her.

Ron just couldn't figure out what was going on with her. He did know that if she didn't come to sleep with him tonight he was going to drag her up there kicking and screaming. She was going to talk to him.

Maybe it was just that time of the month, Ginny always….

Crack.

Ron jerked up, leaning on his elbows. "Fred? What are you doing here? The party isn't until tomorrow."

"I've come early to make a little donation to the needy." He grinned wickedly. "You are a lucky, lucky bloke, baby brother. See," he set down his box, "the wonderfully tempting and always surprising Angelina was rifling around my flat the other day and found my collection. Seems it's either her or my magazines... and you see I'd be down right daft to give up a regular shag for a bunch of pictures. Even if they are the best damn pictures in England."

Ron held his breath, his eyes going wide. It couldn't be. "You don't mean….?"

"Yup, my sadly innocent brother, I am giving you the Mecca… the pinnacle of all witchy magazines…Wicked, Wicked Witches." Fred held up one of the magazines, showing two naked, big-breasted witches.

Ron felt as though he might faint. He'd certainly snuck into his brothers' room to sneak a look at these photos before, but to have them all…at his leisure. He shook his head.

"Mum will kill me." Shite, Hermione would kill him.

"Oh, worried what Mummy will think? That's why you hide them, muck for brains." He threw the magazine and Ron caught it against his chest. "You even have magic to help you. Right spoiled you are. It's made you a pansy. These should be just the thing to make a man out of you. George and me, we found those pictures very instructive." He laughed.

"Crikey, Angelina should be thanking them, not banishing them. I'm sure Hermione will enjoy your tutoring just as much, though knowing Hermione…well, they're good for a wank anyway."

"Hey!" Ron protested. "She is not…" What was she not? Was he going to tell his brother that she wasn't frigid? That she mewled and begged in his arms. "She's not my girlfriend."

Fred laughed again, "Very convincing. Bit of advice, mate: girls don't really like it when you deny that they are your girlfriend when they so obviously are."

Yeah, well, do they like it if one says that they are when they aren't? He opened the magazine, his heart racing as he took in the pictures. Shite, there were actual shagging pictures in this magazine. He had never seen this before.

Even as he turned the pages, he felt guilty. Ron knew he had no good reason to feel bad about it. He wasn't doing anything wrong, but all he could think was, 'Hermione is going to kill me!' and as irrational as it was, the voice was winning. He was just about to throw the magazines back at Fred and tell him to bin them when he found the picture…

The picture that would be his downfall. A lovely, big-breasted witch sprawled out on white satin sheets, wild curls everywhere, obscuring her features. A wizard lie next to her enjoying her … attributes.

Ron stared at the picture, unable to see anything but him and Hermione, frozen in the same pose and painfully aroused.

"Hey." Ron barely recognized Harry's voice through the fog of arousal produced by the image in his mind, combined with the photograph in front of him. He must have just come in the room.

From a distance Fred answered, "Hey, mate, just dropping by to leave a little gift for Ronniekins. See you blokes at the party. Enjoy!" Crack, he was gone. And he'd left the box behind.

"Uh huh," Ron muttered in response to his departure, not yet able to form a coherent word.

"Blimey, Ron! Is that…?"

Ron nodded, "Wicked, Wicked Witches."

He felt the bed next to him shift as Harry sat and looked over at the pictures. He felt oddly protective and almost pulled the magazine away, as if Harry were actually looking at Hermione. Instead, he quickly flipped the page. "They're all starkers?" Harry asked.

Starkers? Shite, he wouldn't be in nearly so much trouble if they were only starkers.

"Harry, they're not just starkers."

"Whoa!" Harry's mouth dropped.

"Yeah."

"What is that?"

Oh shite, oh damn! That was not Harry's voice. That was…his eyes shot up to find Hermione standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. He almost wished that it had been his mum…almost.

He was paralyzed as she walked into the room. He was impotent and incompetent and completely unable to do anything to stop her from taking the magazine from his hand.

What could he possibly do to deny it anyway?

Hermione slowly turned the pages and he had the irrational thought that she really shouldn't be looking at that. She was really much too innocent. It was yet another way in which he was corrupting her.

Ron waited for the anger to come, bracing himself for the yelling.

"Is this what you want?" she asked softly, not looking up.

"What? No, Hermione, no!" Ron shook his head rapidly, not completely grasping the situation, but hearing the hurt in her voice. His stomach turned and his throat filled with bile. When did he become the biggest wanker that ever lived? "Hermione, I just…" Just what? What the hell was his excuse? Was he supposed to say that he wanted her? Was he allowed to say that? In front of Harry?

When she looked up at him there were tears in her eyes, and Ron shook his head against it, frantically trying to think of what he should say…

She opened her mouth to say something and he felt mildly relieved. That's it, sweetheart, yell at him, give him the raking down of a lifetime, let him know what a bastard he is. But she closed her mouth and gave him a look of such accusation, he'd never felt lower in his life.

Hermione threw the magazine at his chest with surprising strength and flew out of the door.

"Hermione!" he called after her. Crap, he had to fix this now. He stumbled and tripped over the bloody box as he rushed for the door. God dammit, he was going to murder Fred for this.

Ron ran down the steps after her pounding footsteps, getting to her door just as she locked it behind her. He pounded on it. "Hermione let me in! You have to let me explain!" Explain what, you moron? "Hermione!"

"Go away!" he heard her yell from the room, then nothing.

The more he pounded, the angrier and more desperate he felt. "So help me Hermione, I'm going to knock this door down…" Then he felt himself being pushed off the door as Hermione cast an Imperturbable on it. He stumbled and almost fell. The rage throbbed in his ears. "Hermione!"

"Ron, mate, you'll wake Remus and your brothers." He only vaguely heard Harry next to him. He'd forgotten that he was there at all. He needed to get through that door. He didn't care who woke up, he didn't care who found those bloody magazines. He needed Hermione.

He groped helplessly at his pockets. There had to be some way through the Imperturbable. He had forgotten his wand. Didn't matter… He punched the door with all his might.

"Ron!" Harry yelled, grasping at his shoulders and trying to pull him away.

Ron barely recognized the burning sensation coming over his hand, but he saw the blue of the Imperturbable bend around his hand. He drew his arm back again and punched, pushing through…almost touching the door.

"Ron! Stop! Can't you see your hand?" Harry forcibly pulled his arm back, making him see that it was bright blue.

Damn it! This wasn't working. There had to be some way through. Ron turned and ran up the stairs, barging into Adrianna's room without knocking.

"Ron?" she called, surprised, from the bed.

He rushed over to the bookcase and scanned the titles. "There's got to be some way to break an Imperturbable, right?" Bloody hell, his hand burned.

"Sure," she said uneasily.

"Hermione blocked us out of her room," Harry supplied, short of breath.

"Well, there isn't a way without knocking the whole house down. Ron, are you in pain?"

Ron barely recognized what she was saying; he just kept trying to read the spines through the growing pain in his arm. He felt hands grasp his arm and cried out at the realization of how much it hurt.

"Holy shit, what happened?" Adrianna asked.

Ron just shook his head, gasping from the pain.

"He tried to punch through the Imperturbable barrier, bloody idiot." Again, the explanation came from Harry.

"God, Ron, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?" Adrianna shook her head as she pushed him into the nearest chair. "Harry, get my potions trunk."

"I have to talk to Hermione," Ron managed to grit out.

"You have to let me take care of that before you lose your arm, is what you have to do," she replied quickly, locating a book from the shelf and flipping through the worn pages.

"But Hermione…" he murmured, though his head was listing back; he was having trouble thinking for the pain.

"Hermione's fine. One more word and I'm having your brothers forcibly carry you to the hospital." Adrianna's voice got farther and farther away. Through half closed eyes, he watched Harry and his cousin gather ingredients for a potion before it all faded away.

* * *

Ginny jerked and sat up on her bed as the door slammed with impressive force. She looked up to see Hermione, red faced and frantic, sit on the edge of her bed and grip the mattress with iron fists. The younger girl scrambled to the side of her bed and looked at Hermione expectantly. 

Almost immediately the knocking began followed by Ron's screaming, "Hermione! Let me in!"

Hermione stared straight ahead, uttering passionately, "Boys are hateful. They are wretched, horrid creatures."

The pounding got more frantic. "You have to let me explain! Hermione!"

There were tears in Hermione's eyes. She screamed back, "Go away!"

"Hermione, what did he do?" Ginny asked, becoming genuinely scared for her friend and hacked off at her brother. Ron was such an idiot. Hermione was ignoring her, covering her ears against the pounding.

"So help me Hermione, I'm going to knock this door down…"

Hermione whipped out her wand with such force that Ginny shrank back. She stood and pointed it at the door as if the door had just murdered her puppy. "Imperturbis."

And just like that Ginny was locked in with a crazy woman. Ron must have really messed up this time. She watched as her friend slowly resumed her stony position. The look in her eyes really did make Ginny fear for her sanity.

"Hermione!" she said forcefully, trying to wake her up, "What did Ron do?"

Hermione's lip trembled and tears spilled over. Oh, hell.

Ginny got up and sat next to her, putting an arm around her shoulders. "What did that bastard do now?" she asked more softly.

Hermione buried her head in her hands and muttered something incomprehensible.

"What?" More muttering. Ginny took a deep breath. "I can't hear you," she told her with frustration, but not as much frustration as Hermione must have been feeling when she jerked up her head and practically screamed, "I said…I found him with a….with a pornographic magazine." She pulled out of Ginny's embrace and began to pace the room.

Ginny watched her and tried to look sympathetic, or at least not show how frightened she was for Hermione's sanity. "Hermione," she said gently, "all boys look at porn. It's kind of normal."

Hermione threw her a frightening glare and shook her head. "You don't understand."

There was a pause and Ginny wondered if she was supposed to say something here.

Thankfully Hermione continued without prompting. "It's just proof of how I'll never be what Ron wants."

"Please!" Ginny laughed, before she could stop herself. Why were people so blind when it came to their own love lives?

"No!" Hermione insisted passionately. "You don't get it. The girls in the magazine…they're what he really wants. Not some…some little flat chested…"

"You're not flat….

"Curveless, naive child, with ugly hair and a plain face. He wants someone beautiful and womanly. I was just deluding myself that I could ever be more than a friend and a…a partner to study kissing. Oh God, I'm teaching him how to kiss other girls."

"Hermione!" Ginny yelled to get her attention. "You're hysterical! Calm down. You know Ron finds you attractive, you're not thinking clearly! Hell, you're practically delusional, have you even looked in a mirror?"

But the frantic girl continued pacing as if she hadn't heard her, except for shaking her head in denial of Ginny' s flattering comments.

"Could you at least sit? You're making me dizzy." Ginny was shocked when Hermione did as she was asked. Maybe she was listening after all.

Hermione sat on Ginny's bed and looked down at the floor. "It doesn't matter anyway," she said in a small voice. "I ruined everything last night anyway. We'll never have a chance now."

"I'm sure that's not true," Ginny said, as gently as she could.

A strange look came over Hermione's face as she looked out into the distance. Then she turned and met Ginny's eyes for the first time. "Ginny, how far have you gone with a boy?"

Ok, that was not what she had been expecting. Ginny reeled a little from the change of subject. "Um, gone?"

"Sexually?" Hermione asked seriously, as if they were discussing transfiguration.

"Um, well…" Ginny did not like where this was going. This conversation would be a lot more comfortable if the sexually didn't have to do with her brother. "I reckon some heavy snogging and a bit of touching." She didn't understand why she could feel her neck and cheeks heat up.

Hermione swallowed, and asked in a choked voice, "Above or below the waist?"

"Above," Ginny said, her voice coming out in a squeak. Why did it feel like she was discussing this with Ron and not Hermione?

Hermione closed her eyes and looked away, nodding. It seemed that wasn't the response she was hoping for.

"Hermione," Ginny asked carefully, unfortunately seeing where this was going. "Did Ron touch you somewhere that you felt..." Anger at her brother warred with mortification within her, "…uncomfortable?"

"No," Hermione whispered, "It wasn't Ron."

Ginny actually felt her eyes pop out of her head... she choked. "You touched him…below the belt." Oh, that was not a good image.

"I'm a slag," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"No," Ginny protested automatically, trying to gain control of her own repulsion. "No one thinks…."

She was cut off by an onslaught of rapid fire questioning. "Ginny, have you ever felt completely out of control with a boy? Have you ever felt like your body was on fire and something inside you was changing and moving and about to explode and you needed something but you didn't know what it was, but you had to have it and if you didn't you might just die and then you didn't get it and you think you're going to completely lose your mind?"

Ginny shook her head, trying to catch up with what her friend was saying. The only part that she understood was the part about Hermione going crazy, which was becoming increasingly obvious.

Hermione's expression drooped, "I can see by your expression you haven't. You see I really am a slag, a whore, it must be in my blood, I can't control myself when I'm with him."

"No, Hermione," Ginny said with more confidence. "That's normal, really. You're just a normal teenage girl who really fancies a bloke. You're not a slag."

"Why would Ron ever want to be in a real relationship with a slag?" Hermione asked as if Ginny hadn't even spoken.

Well, that was just great. Why should Ginny be surprised…no one ever listened to her.

With far too much annoyance she asked, "If you're so hell bent on blaming yourself, why are you punishing Ron? Why are you so mad at him?"

Hermione's lip trembled again. "Because I hate him…I hate him because I need him and I…love him... and he doesn't want me." She turned and threw herself, face down, onto the bed, covering her head with a pillow. Ginny's pillow.

And apparently that was the end of the conversation, at least from Hermione's point of view, since nothing Ginny did or said got any kind of further response from her. Great, now she was trapped in here by an Imperturbable, with a mute crazy person in her bed.

Certainly not how Ginny had imagined spending the night she turned fifteen. Midnight was just about an hour away. She had hoped to be with Harry. She slipped over to her night stand and pulled out the watch, clutching it in her hand, loving the feel of the cold metal in her palm.

She needed to get out the door. She and Harry could still do this. She could still feel the pleasure…she could still spend the night kissing him in her dreams. Ginny just needed that damn spell down.

"Hermione," she called entreatingly. "I really need you to lift the Imperturbable so I can go to the loo." When there was no response, she added, "We can't stay trapped in here forever."

Finally, the older girl rolled over and picked up her wand, but before lifting the charm, she looked at Ginny with bloodshot eyes. "Ginny, if you let Ron in here….I just can't, please."

"I won't, I promise." For the first time, Ginny felt truly sorry for her friend. She deserved more sympathy than Ginny was giving her.

Hermione lifted the spell and Ginny quietly slipped out the door. She was a bit surprised not to find anyone on the other side of the door. She hadn't expected her brother to give up so easily. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe Ron didn't care enough.

She found Harry and Ron's room empty as well but across the hall the door was cracked open. Ginny found Ron asleep on Adrianna's bed, while the Empath seemed to be wrapping his arm in some sort of bandage. Harry caught her eye and quickly approached her, guiding her out of the room and softly closing the door.

She looked at him in confusion. "What?"

Harry shook his head, his arms tightly crossed. Absurdly she noticed how tight the shirt seemed to pull over his arms and chest now. His expression was stony when he whispered, "Ron tried to punch through the Imperturbable."

Ginny's eyebrows shot up. Only her brother would do something so daft.

"Yeah, he was in quite a rage. He burned his arm right good. Adrianna said he could have lost it if he'd kept going. He passed out from the pain."

"God! Is he going to be all right?"

"Yeah, Adrianna said she got to him in time. Says he'll be fine in the morning." He gave a bitter sigh, staring beyond her. "And all because Hermione was too stubborn to talk to him. She completely over reacted, it was only a magazine."

Ginny felt herself grow angrier with every word he said. How dare he…boys were so…boys! "She wasn't over reacting! She's really hurt, Harry. You don't understand."

"I reckon I don't," he answered, not looking at her.

Great, this was just great. Ginny could feel tears burning her eyes. She still felt the cool metal of the watch against her skin and opened her palm to him. "Well, Hermione's not sleeping in your room tonight."

Harry nodded. "I suppose it's for the best anyway."

For the best? Of course, more over protective crap. Or maybe he just didn't want to feel that with her. "Yeah, for the best." She turned and walked away, not trusting herself to look at him any longer. "See you in the morning," she called as she descended the stairs.

Hermione was right. Boys were hateful, horrid, wretched creatures.

Back in her room, Hermione seemed to have gone to sleep, thankfully in her own bed. Ginny wondered if she should tell Hermione that Ron had indeed been so desperate to get to her that he was now comatose on Adrianna's bed nursing the wounds.

No, let her sleep. Ron deserves the pain, the stupid arse. All boys deserved what they got. Hermione would find out about it all in the morning.

In the morning….Ginny hated birthdays, almost as much as she hated boys.

* * *

Hermione had been awake since before dawn. 

It made sense, really; she had been carefully training herself to get up so that she could escape from Ron's bed to hers before the household roused for the day. But today she awakened, already in her own bed and that mere realization almost had her in tears. As if not sleeping with Ron was the worst thing imaginable. As if she had actually thought that it could go on forever, that she wasn't fifteen years old, that she was actually in that kind of relationship with him….god she was so stupid.

Going over the events of the day before, waves and waves of sickening emotions washed over her. It was all over now. She'd never be with Ron like that again. Practice was over and with it the chance of anything more.

Even as Hermione thought it, she realized how untrue it was. Looking at yesterday's events logically it was clear that there was still hope. Nothing that had happened was irreparable. Ron hadn't actually said he didn't want to be with her…

As much as Hermione want to rely on her old friend logic, she knew it didn't really matter. The feelings of misery, rejection, and self-doubt were so profound that she knew that she she'd never be able to act logically. Why start now? She'd take one look at Ron and it would be all hormones and defensiveness.

So, instead Hermione did the most irrational thing of all. She hid, hid in the ballroom. The one place that everyone was bound to come sooner or later. She hadn't only lost her ability to act logically, she'd apparently become completely daft. But still she sat, curled in a tight ball on a sofa hoping beyond hope that she wouldn't have to talk to Ron or Ginny… god, Ginny…she surely thought Hermione was insane. She was most likely right.

An argument could be heard coming from the staircase. "No, Charlie, I said no…just get the hell out of my head." Adrianna was arguing in English. Probably didn't realize anyone was listening.

"If you'd just stop being so bloody stubborn…"

"I said no." Adrianna came to an abrupt stop when she saw Hermione, a look of confusion and concern coming over her face.

That was when Hermione realized her choice of hiding place wasn't illogical at all. No, instead it was merely pathetic and humiliating. She had a very good reason for coming here after all…and even now it hurt her to admit it.

Hermione had wanted Adrianna to be the one to find her. She wanted her to find her and read her mind and emotions and be the interfering know-it-all that the woman was known to be and fix things for her.

Hermione needed help…she was completely desperate. She'd tried Ginny, but it had been no use. Ginny didn't know how to deal with this. Hermione needed an experienced woman, one she had a frightening suspicion knew exactly what it was like to be in love with and out of control over a Weasley.

Hermione looked up and summoned all the courage she had to hold Adrianna's intense gaze. She tried to convey her need without words. She just couldn't bring herself to ask this woman, who she had despised up until a few days ago, to help her with something so intimate. So, Hermione pleaded with her in her mind all the while berating herself. She officially had no self-respect left.

The lines of concern on Adrianna's face deepened as she approached the younger girl, putting up a hand to Charlie that said 'keep quiet and keep back.' She searched Hermione's face and the girl recognized frustration in Adrianna's expression. The Empath seemed to be having trouble reading her. When finally Adrianna stood directly in front of her she raised a hand as if to touch Hermione, but paused inches away. Hermione remembered that Bill had said Adrianna had once needed touch to read someone. Were her powers so off that she needed touch again? Was she asking permission to read her?

Hermione nodded. Please. Please. She just needed help. She blinked back tears as the Empath placed her hand over hers and looked deeply into her eyes. After a mere moment, Adrianna dropped her hand and sighed. "Come on," she said softly, putting her hand on the younger girl's elbow and gently urging her to stand. "Let's go someplace with a door."

Charlie looked furious at the interruption. He bit out menacingly, "'Drana…"

"Charlie, go!" Adrianna snapped as she guided Hermione across to the dining room. "Just go and check on your brother, all right. The fool tried to punch through an Imperturbable last night. Go make sure the burns have healed…please."

Hermione's breath caught. "Ron? Is he all right?" she squeaked, afraid. He had been hurt…hurt trying to get to her.

"He should be fine," Adrianna reassured softly, closing the door in Charlie's face and pulling out two chairs, facing each other. "Had a rough night, though. Quite a temper, your young man."

Tears came to Hermione's eyes, "He's not my young man." Those words brought back all the hurt and anger she felt the minute she saw that magazine. She was glad his damned hand hurt!

Adrianna didn't respond to assertion, just sat. "So, what's wrong?"

Didn't she know? That was the whole point, wasn't it? What good was it to go to an Empath if Hermione actually had to talk? The girl carefully sat in the offered seat and drew up her knees, placing her heels on the edge of the seat.

"Hermione?" she was prompted.

She opened her mouth to speak and was frustrated when nothing came out. So instead she snapped, "Can't you tell?"

Adrianna frowned and rubbed her forehead in a tired manner. "Normally I can….it would be better if you would just tell me. Don't you hate it when your thoughts are read?"

Shoving aside her shame at her own hypocrisy, Hermione decided to ignore the last part.

"Normally?" she asked instead.

The Empath looked at her with a tense expression. "Yeah, well my powers haven't been under the best control lately."

"Why?" Hermione asked without thinking, as if getting information from Adrianna would somehow justify her asking help of the Empath.

"Lots and lots of reasons I suppose." There was a far away expression on her face.

Hermione couldn't keep herself from asking, "Any of them have to do with Charlie?"

Adrianna gave a small puff of a laugh and met her eyes again. "They all have to do with Charlie." The smile she smiled was self-deprecating and bitter.

Somehow, it made Hermione feel infinitely more comfortable. She smiled back. "I think I can understand," she confessed softly, not sure exactly how their situations related, but somehow knowing they did.

A deep sadness came over Adrianna's face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She swallowed, "So, are you going to tell me what has you so…" she paused clearly having as much trouble as Hermione was naming all her emotions. "…miserable?"

Miserable? Good a word as any, Hermione supposed. She nodded in response and rubbed her eyes. Where to start? She went for concise. "Ron doesn't want me."

Adrianna laughed. "Try again. You're smarter than that."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest like a shield and let the bitterness spill out.

"Fine, he wants me like any sixteen-year-old boy wants to be with any girl who he is holed up with for a month and who offers herself to him to do whatever he wants with. He doesn't really want me. Not in a way that counts and why should he? I'm plain, I'm boring…boring looking I mean, I have ugly hair and I have the body of a child…or a boy."

"And that's what Ron thinks?" The question was thankfully serious. And Hermione nodded in response. "He said this?"

Hermione scoffed, looking away. "Of course not, he's not that big a prat."

"Ah, of course. So you must have evidence?"

"Evidence?" Crikey, she was going to make her use logic. As Hermione watched

Adrianna, it was clear she wasn't going to say anything until Hermione came up with

some 'evidence.' "Well, I found him drooling all over those…those pornographic magazines."

The response was a pensive frown. "Hermione, all boys look at porn. It doesn't mean anything."

"It does in this case!" Hermione insisted. She didn't know how to explain it. She just knew that Ron found her wanting …she just knew it.

"Fine, then. Has he never told you he thinks that you are attractive?"

Hermione turned her head away, not about to admit anything.

"Hermione…" Adrianna prodded.

"Yes, but…"

"But… what has he said?"

"He said I was beautiful…" Hermione broke off in a mumble. She'd thought the Empath

would understand. Clearly she didn't.

"What was that?"

"He said I was beautiful, ok?" she snapped, feeling foolish and hating the woman for it.

"And what else has he said?"

God, she must be reading her…it wasn't fair. "He said I was gorgeous…once…I think."

"Hmmm so then…." Her expression was annoyingly knowing.

"You don't understand," Hermione broke in passionately. "That was before…before…"

she lamely gestured to her chest.

"Before he…" Adrianna looked like she was genuinely trying to understand. Maybe she wasn't reading her. "Before he saw you naked?"

"No! Well, yes…not entirely." Hermione buried her head in her hand.

"Before he saw you topless."

Hermione nodded. Finally she figured something out.

"So, he saw you topless and something he did makes you think that he wasn't impressed…no, not something he said…" she broke off in frustration. "You're going to have to help me out here Hermione, my head hurts. How many times have…"

"Just once!" Hermione defended herself, flushing deeply.

"Once, which obviously wasn't last night, so…the night before?" Hermione nodded.

Adrianna sat back and crossed her arms. "So, let me get this straight. Once he saw you half naked and his addled teenage brain didn't reassure you immediately that you were beautiful, so clearly he thinks you're not womanly enough for him."

"No!" Hermione defended, angrily. "That not it…not just it. You don't understand." Why did she come in here?

Adrianna sighed. "No, I think I understand perfectly. Ron's not the problem here…you are."

Hermione's stomach sank. As if she didn't know that.

"Hermione, look at me. You are smarter than this. The problem is not that Ron doesn't think you are attractive. The problem is that you don't." Hermione shook her head in denial, but she was ignored. "I could sit here and tell you that you are being ridiculous, that Ron finds you extremely attractive. I could tell you that you have a very nice shape and that you are far from plain, but it doesn't matter what I say. It doesn't matter what

Ron says, either. In a day, an hour, it will disappear like a whiff of smoke, because you don't think you're attractive."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione denied in a small voice.

"Really? So what's up with your hair?"

Hermione's hands flew to the wild mess. "It's horrible," she said bitterly. "I hate it."

Which only served to prove her point, so why was Adrianna bringing it up?

"Yes, it certainly is a mess. The question is, why is it a mess, when a hair cut and a simple beauty charm could change all that? A charm that a witch of your caliber could do in her sleep. So, why haven't you bothered to learn one?"

Hermione set her jaw and looked at her defiantly. "Because there are more important things than beauty charms and hair. I'm not shallow. I don't care about how I look."

Adrianna snorted. "You care so little that you are having a nervous break down about Ron not thinking you're pretty enough," she pointed out in a thoroughly annoying way.

"Hermione, everyone cares about their looks. Anyone who says they don't is lying; it's not shallow. What you've been doing is hiding. If you don't try, if you say it doesn't matter then…well, then you can't fail, right?"

Her words tore through Hermione painfully, making her feel exposed. "So, what can I do about it?" she asked bitterly.

"Very simple, you try."

Hermione expected to see a triumphant look on Adrianna's face when she finally found the courage to look at her, but instead there was simple sincerity, without a bit of judgment. It was the look of someone who was willing to help her and god help her she wanted that help. She didn't want to feel this way anymore. She…

There was a knocking at the door that made Adrianna cringe. "Go away Charlie!" she called.

"It's me," Ginny yelled back in an annoyed voice and Adrianna opened the door.

Ginny slammed it behind her and threw herself into a chair. "I can't believe you left me alone with those…boys!"

"Um, Happy Birthday," Adrianna said, cautiously.

"Yeah, Happy Birthday?" Hermione chimed in.

Ginny crossed her arms and sulked in her chair. "Happy Bloody Birthday to me. I hate boys. They're all horrible!"

"Can't argue with that," Adrianna commented, leaning back.

Hermione could only nod absently. She wondered what Harry had done now.

"Adrianna!" Charlie's roar echoed through the room, causing Adrianna to weave her hands into her hair and pull. "If you don't come out of there…"

"I'll come out when I damn well feel like it. Leave me alone!" she bellowed, pulling her hair harder. She turned to Ginny. "I swear if I don't get out of this house, your mother is really going to have a reason to hate me because she's going to have one less son when she returns."

"It's not as though we can go anywhere," the redhead responded bitterly. "We're trapped here."

"Says who?" Adrianna challenged.

Hermione took a deep breath, having made a decision. "Adrianna," she called dragging the woman's eyes back to hers. "I want to…try, that is."

Adrianna just smiled and Hermione was relieved that she didn't have to explain anymore.

"Well then," Adrianna said standing. "I say we get out of this wretched house. Ginny needs a birthday celebration besides this party, which is little more than an excuse for her brothers to get drunk…"

"Is that what they're all about?" Ginny exclaimed.

"Hermione needs a new outlook and I need to get as far away from Charlie as humanly possible. So grab your things, we are taking the afternoon off."

Hermione felt a surge of excitement…and relief. "Is it safe?" she asked, even as she stood.

"As long as we don't use magic. You think Voldemort is combing Muggle London for signs of us? I don't think so."

"Wait," Ginny asked. "We're really leaving Grimmauld Place?"

"Unless you don't want to?"

"Oh, I want to," she said eagerly, standing. Ginny looked at Hermione expectantly, as if she was waiting for her to protest. She looked as though she couldn't quite believe that Hermione would willing go anywhere with Adrianna.

Hermione couldn't quite believe it either. Maybe she really had lost all good sense. She smiled at the thought. "When do we leave?"

* * *

When Harry awoke, he found no one where they were supposed to be. Not only were his usual roommates elsewhere, 'Drana, who fell asleep in Ron's bed after he had passed out in hers, was also gone. Harry's gruff mood intensified when he went in search of his cousin and his friends in the ballroom and found it empty. 

It had been a late and agonizing night. Watching Ron, out of his mind over Hermione, seeing his arm turn blue as he tried to punch through the Imperturbable and not being able to stop him…Harry hated feeling so helpless. It didn't make sense to him that Hermione had reacted like that. Harry had thought she really cared about Ron, but then why would she shut him out like that…without even an explanation? It was so clear the way Ron felt about her. If she broke Ron's heart, Harry worried that none of them would survive it.

And Ginny? Why was she so set on defending Hermione? She didn't even go see Ron as he was unconscious in Adrianna's room. Harry could still see his eyes roll into the back of his head as Ron had fainted. There was something deeply disturbing about the tall, healthy almost-man… fainting. But not as disturbing as the frantic speed at which Adrianna had gathered ingredients and called out orders to make the restorative paste.

The kitchen was empty as well…if Adrianna was off in Charlie's room Harry thought he just might scream until he couldn't scream anymore. He stomped up the stairs. She had just better be in her room checking on Ron.

He ran into Ginny on the first floor landing. She looked surprised to see him. "Oh, hey, Harry, have you seen Hermione?"

Harry frowned. "No," he snapped. "I haven't seen anyone."

Ginny gave him a look of pure rage and shook her head. She pushed around him and down the stairs.

What was with her?

Harry found Ron sitting up on Adrianna's bed, with Charlie unwrapping a now clean bandage. Ron held the forearm that he had burned the night before, flexing and unflexing his hand. The once bright blue had faded to a light, sickly hue.

"All right there, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, fine," Ron said distractedly, looking at his arm. "Just tingles a bit. Have you seen Hermione?" he asked anxiously.

Harry shook his head. Hermione. Blimey, Ron had it bad.

Charlie answered instead. "We saw her this morning, huddled on the sofa of the ballroom. Adrianna took her to the dining room to talk."

"Oh," Ron said, looking down. "Was she ok?"

Charlie, who Harry now thought of as the wanker, looked as agitated as Harry felt. "She looked upset. 'Drana certainly seemed concerned. Hermione didn't have a blue arm, however."

"I need to talk to her," Ron said, almost to himself.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Isn't that what got you into this mess in the first place?"

"Fred's bloody magazines are what got me into this mess in the first place," he responded heatedly.

Charlie grabbed Ron's bad arm and looked it over roughly. "Adrianna needs to look at that." The wanker stormed out of the room.

Why Adrianna was any better than Charlie at judging Ron's mostly healed wounds was beyond Harry. It wasn't as though she was a Healer. Harry heard the wanker screaming at Adrianna from two floors down. He clenched his fists with the urge to punch something.

"I've really done it this time, mate," Ron said sadly.

Harry shook his head. "You didn't do anything, not really. Hermione should have talked to you, let you explain about Fred's stupid magazines."

Ron just shook his head with a dejected look.

More noises wafted up the stairs, the familiar sound of Adrianna and Charlie arguing and then the sound of multiple feet tramping up the stairs.

Adrianna came rushing into her room. She picked up Ron's arm, and turned it, looking at all sides. "Does it still hurt?" Ron shook his head. "He's fine," she proclaimed, dropping his arm and moving to her armoire.

Charlie stood with his arms crossed at the door. "Drana…" he growled.

She largely ignored him, grabbing her bag and addressing Ron and Harry. "I'm taking the girls shopping for Ginny's birthday. No magic while I'm gone." Adrianna gave them no time to react. She rushed past Charlie, into the hall and down the stairs.

"What do you mean, taking the girls shopping?" Ron asked somewhat hysterically. He was off the bed and after her in an instant. Harry followed.

They caught up with her in the foyer where the 'girls' were ready to go. Ginny was smiling and practically bouncing with excitement over her little birthday trip. Hermione was biting her lip nervously and glancing at Ron, but there were no signs that she didn't want to go on this little escapade.

Hermione was willingly going out of their safe house with Adrianna. She must really want to get away from Ron, either that or she finally had gone completely mental.

"You can't go out, it's not safe!" Ron bellowed.

"We'll be fine," Adrianna assured.

"No." Ron looked frantic. He looked at Hermione pleadingly. "You can't!" He grabbed her arm with his blue hand and pulled her aside, against the wall.

Hermione stared in fixation at his blue hand. "Is that…are you all right?" she asked in a voice so small that Harry barely heard her.

"Hermione," Ron whispered, pleadingly and paused. "It's fine…. just tingles a bit."

"You really shouldn't have tried to punch through the Imperturbable. It was very foolish," she told the floor.

Ron stared at her with such intensity, as if he could make her look at him by sheer force of will. "You shouldn't have blocked me out."

"Ron…I…I have to go." She took him by surprise, ducking under his arm and escaping. She scrambled out the door behind Ginny before Ron could stop her.

"Remember…no magic," Adrianna called as she quickly closed the door behind her.

Harry looked around the now quiet room. What the hell had just happened?

Ron looked as though he might cry and Charlie as though he might implode. "I can't believe her," the wanker said in a furious tone. "That she'd risk all their safety for a shopping trip…and a hair cut."

"Hair cut? Who's getting a hair cut?" Ron asked somewhat hysterically.

His brother shrugged absently. "Hermione, I think…."

"What…? What!"

Harry just couldn't believe he had been left behind.

_

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Author's Note:_

_Yeah I know, makeover Hermione is one of the biggest clichés out there. My justification for using it goes like this… In every young woman's life there comes a time when she has to decide to stop being a little girl and embrace being a woman. Sometimes it happens when you are nine and sometimes when you're twenty-one. Almost always, it comes with some outward manifestation, whether it is getting rid of the pink ballerina's on the wall, or cutting off two feet of hair you'd clung to for a decade. For Hermione it's taming the frizz._

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